Lessons
by Platypi-in-Ties
Summary: Hermione Granger never thought she'd be asking Fred Weasley for tutoring - especially not in this subject. But what will happen once the lines between teacher and pupil become blurred? Rated M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**Birthday present for one of mis amigas mejores.**

**Notes: In this story, Fred never died, and the epilogue does not exist. That is all.**

**Oh yeah, not mine.**

**Enjoy! :-)**

Chapter One

"Hermione," he groaned, pulling her closer. His hands ran up and down the length of her torso, everywhere at once as his tongue battled with hers. "Relax."

Try as she might, she couldn't. She always began to stress when things got like this between her and Ron. It wasn't that he was coming on to her too soon – for heaven's sake, they'd been together over two years- it was just… He was so… Overwhelming.

Her every sense was overwhelmed by him, creating a confused, jumbled chaos in her mind. Hermione Granger did not like chaos.

What if – she panicked. Oh, what if –

He tugged on the hemline of her shirt. Her mind screamed in panic – it was all just too much.

He had her shirt halfway off before her eyes flew open and she pulled away. He looked down at her, confusion evident in his expression. Confusion turned to slight frustration as he recognized the look in her eyes – like a rabbit, ready to bolt at any moment.

"Hermione," he sighed, sounding weary.

"Erm… Sorry… But I'd better be going, hadn't I?... Harry – Harry will be back soon and… Anyways … I've got to go… clean my flat… before Ginny comes over…Sorry…" she mumbled, thinking of fresh excuses for refusing him yet again.

"Right," he grumbled, sitting up. "I get it."

"Ron, I-"

"Look, Hermione… Is something wrong?"

"I – Wrong?"

"Every time we kiss like this you get all jittery and shifty and end it as soon as you can! Am I doing something wrong, Hermione?"

"You – No, of course not."

"Then what's going on? Why do you keep acting like this? Do you not have feelings for me anymore?"

"I – What?" Hermione asked, absolutely flabbergasted. "Of course I do, Ron! I love you!"

"Oh, right," he scoffed. "What? Are you – Are you seeing some other bloke, Hermione? Because if you are, I'd sure as hell like to hear it from you now."

"I-" She spluttered for a moment, at a loss for words. Anger flooded her veins as she processed his words. "How dare you?" she spat. "How dare you? Accusing me of seeing someone else! I would never do something like that! And if you think that I am, well then -"

"Why do you keep backing out, then? You're perfectly fine in the beginning, then suddenly-"

"I'm just not ready yet, Ron!" she shrieked. Tears filled her eyes, angry and sad; this was not supposed to be happening. "I'm sorry, all right! I'm not ready yet. And if you can't deal with that, well then maybe-"

"Shh," he whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. "Shh, it's all right. That's it? You're just not ready? Why didn't you just tell me that before?"

"I – I don't know," she confessed, her voice muffled in his chest as she tried to wipe the tears away. "I _want_ to be ready, Ron, I really do. I'm just… not. And I panic… I… I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Hermione," he mumbled, sounding ashamed. "It's my fault. I jumped to conclusions. I …. Merlin, you know I'm bad at this kind of talk. Can I just kiss you?"

She smiled and lifted her head, permitting him to kiss her sweetly.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I love you too, Ron."

They stayed like that for a moment, then he sighed, breaking the silence, and got to his feet, pulling her with him. "Come on," he said, "I'll take you home."

They flooed back to her flat together in Diagon Alley.

"You okay?" he asked, searching her face. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. "I'm fine. You'd better go, Harry will be back by now, probably wondering where you are. Aren't you supposed to be helping him with that report on the Johansson case?"

Ron groaned. "Yes…" He gave her one last kiss on the forehead before stepping back into the fireplace. "See you tomorrow."

With a cry of "Number 27, Baker Street" and a whoosh of green flame, he was gone.

Hermione stared at the now vacant fireplace for a moment before collapsing into the nearest armchair with a groan.

Why was she so bad at this? Why couldn't she just let it happen? Merlin knew, she wanted it to… It wasn't fair to him to keep him waiting like this…

She buried her head in her hands. If she was being honest with herself – and she always tried to be – she was terrified. Hermione did not like going into things without being confident that she would be the best. It was the main reason that she did not like flying.

Even in the war, when she had been forced to enter new situations having no idea of the possible outcomes, she had been confident in the knowledge that she had prepared herself with enough magical knowledge to handle anything.

This, however, was nothing like that. Hermione was quickly learning that, like flying, this was something that she could not learn out of a book.

Not that she hadn't tried.

She hoped with all her might that no one would ever discover the stack of books she had hidden under the floor board beneath her window.

She had checked out every book on the subject from a Muggle library across the country where nobody knew the name Hermione Granger, not to mention countless numbers of trashy paperback romance novels, hoping to gather enough tips and tricks and explanations to boost her confidence. But to no avail. If anything, they had made her all the more confused, not to mention frustrated.

Her thoughts were broken by a soft tapping on her window pane. She stood and opened the window, allowing the tawny owl to fly into her room and land upon the back of a kitchen chair.

"Hello, Willoughby." Hermione made her way towards the owl and untied the letter from his leg. "What's Ginny writing to me for today? I'm going to see her in a few hours…"

She scanned the letter. It appeared she would not, in fact, be seeing Ginny. Something about a rogue bludger on the loose at practice and having to stay to clean up the damage.

Hermione grumbled under her breath as she went to grab an owl treat out of the side drawer. Now what was she supposed to do for the rest of the night? She had been looking forward to speaking with Ginny and not having to think about this any longer.

Then it hit her. "Of course!" she shouted, nearly startling Willoughby off of the chair. The twins! How had she not thought of them before now? Well, that was an easy question, really. She had just moved into her flat – which was barely one block away from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – three months ago, after all, and their friendship was generally new. Over that time, she found herself meeting the twins often for drinks after work or lunch on weekends, even a few dinners here and there. She got on with them much better than she would have ever thought, and, while she still didn't agree with some of their products and ideas, she had to admit they were very smart. And no one on the earth could take your mind off of your problems like the Weasley twins.

"Willoughby, can you stay a moment? I want to send a letter to Fred and George."

The owl narrowed his eyes, displeased at this extra detour, but stayed in his place.

She grabbed the nearest pen and jotted down a quick message on the back of a muggle takeout menu.

"Here you are, Willoughby. Thank you so much," she said, tying the message to his leg. "Can you just drop this by Fred and George's on your way home? Don't bother staying, they can send Bert."

Willoughby hooted in acknowledgement and flew back out the window.

Hermione watched him fly down the busy street, her outlook considerably brighter with the possibility of an evening with the twins in her future.

Humming quietly to herself, she kicked off her shoes and made her way back to the living room. She selected a book at random from the coffee table and plopped down on the sofa to read.

Twenty minutes later, she heard a rustle from the kitchen and looked up just in time to see a small, bright blue owl fly through her open window and crash right in to her china hutch – which, despite the name, was full of picture frames and books. Hermione stood and rushed to the bird, torn between laughter and pity.

"Oh, Bert!" She cried, gathering the owl up in her arms and depositing him carefully on a stack of dishtowels by the sink. She peered wearily at the motionless bird, wondering if he was still alive.

She prodded him hesitantly after a moment and he stirred, righting himself and hooting happily. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"What did they do to you this time?" She eyed his electric blue plumage disapprovingly, but he hooted again merrily, nearly bouncing on the spot in his excitement. "You like it…" Hermione raised an eyebrow bemusedly at the small bird and he hooted again in agreement. "All right then…"

She shook her head, grinning slightly. What will they come up with next, she wondered as she untied the note from his leg. She recognized the paper as the same menu she had sent them earlier. Witten underneath her message in large, loopy, curly handwriting that was highly uncharacteristic of either twin were the words:

_Dearest Darling Hermy-oh-ninny, _

She pursed her lips at this – she knew she shouldn't have told them about that incident.

_We would be ever so delighted to accompany you in the consumption of foodstuffs this evening. _

_Our kindest regards,_

_Alfred Gideon and George Fabian Weasley_

Hermione snorted. That had to be George - ever the aspiring poet. Ah, yes, under this note was another, scrawled in a much more familiar hand.

_Nevermind Gred, he's been testing our new Sonnet Spouting Sweets… Obviously, they're in the early ages of development. All they make him do so far is talk like __Percy__ an old-fashioned prat. Can't seem to get past the eighteenth century. Don't worry; I'll have him sorted out by dinner. We'll pick you up at your place at seven._

_-The Better Looking Twin_

_PS: When I say we'll pick you up, I mean we're dropping by your flat and you're apparating us to this muggle place on the other side of this paper, because we've no clue where it is and I feel the need to experience the meaning of the term "kung-pao."_

She grinned and glanced at the clock – she still had an hour and a half. She wrote a quick "Perfect, see you then" and retied the message to the poor owl's leg. With one last gleeful hoot, he zoomed out the window, standing out like a sore thumb against the grey sky.

Hermione smiled. Asking the twins to dinner had definitely been a good idea.

**Leave some feedback, yes? :-) I'd love to hear what you think of this story so far :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A huge thank you to all who reviewed and added this story to your favorites and story alerts! I didn't think so many people would like this story. I went back and made some small edits to chapter one – nothing major, just fixed a few things that were bothering me, word choice wise.**

**If the Harry Potter universe belonged to me, Fred would have never died and Luna would be with Neville. But neither is true, therefore, this universe was not created by me. I just enjoy having fun with it.**

Chapter Two

A knock at the door startled her. Well, it wasn't so much as a knock as a pounding that shook the wall and put her picture frames in danger of falling to their dooms, but that was beside the point.

She looked up at the clock in alarm. Had that much time really passed? The iron hands of the clock taunted her from their position at precisely seven o'clock. She swore under her breath, searching desperately for a place to hide what she'd been reading.

"C-Come in," she squeaked, rushing around the room in a panic. They _could not _know that she, Hermione Granger, had spent the last forty-five minutes immersed in a trashy romance novel.

The door swung open and she froze in the middle of the room, hiding the book behind her back and attempting to look natural.

"Hello!" she greeted, wincing internally at how falsely chipper her voice sounded.

The twins stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

"And what are you hiding, Miss Granger?" George asked, smirking.

"Hidi – Hiding?" she asked, clearing her throat to rid it of that awful high pitch.

"Nice try, Hermione. This is us you're talking to," said Fred, grinning evilly.

"Umm…"

"Thought so."

They entered her apartment slowly, identical grins on their faces. She took a step back for each of their steps forward until she found herself pressed against the kitchen counter. Her eyes widened in horror as they closed in on her.

George made as if to reach out and grab the book, and she turned away from him. This was, apparently, the twins' plan, as Fred snatched the novel out of her exposed hands and whooped with glee.

Hermione shrieked and tried to grab it back, but he easily held it out of her reach.

"Nights of Juniper?" he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at the title. It was over. It was all over. Why hadn't she just thought to banish it to her room? Or at least shove it under the couch?

"Fred, give it-"

He thumbed through the book doubtfully, landing on her bookmark.

"No! I-"

He held the book up a tad higher, grinning down at her, eyebrow raised. He cleared his throat, adjusting invisible glasses, and squared his shoulders in a rather Percy-like fashion. "Her hands," he began to read, "tangled in his hair as he slid lower, kissing his way down from her-" He stopped speaking abruptly, staring down at the page openmouthed. He skimmed the page in silence, turning steadily redder with each word. He made an odd choking noise and shut the book, holding the book out awkwardly in Hermione's general direction, not meeting her eye.

Hermione did not see this, however, as she was busy hiding her face in her hands, groaning unintelligible, mortified syllables into her palms.

Fred opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like a bright red fish out of water before finally throwing the book onto the couch away from him with a bit too much force.

"So," said George, laughter in his voice, causing both Fred and Hermione to look up at him, "never knew you were into _those_ types of books, Hermione."

"I- I um… It's not… I can read what I want!" she spluttered, attempting to look indignant. The effect was rather ruined, however, by the red flush of heat radiating from her face and neck.

"Ickle Ronnie not enough for you, eh? Who would have thought? The little bookworm… And here we were, Fred, thinking she was such an innocent little thing…" George shook his head in mock disappointment. Hermione turned, if possible, even redder.

Fred snorted, seeming to be overcoming the initial shock of finding Hermione reading such risqué material. "It is rather surprising, isn't it? I mean, Ronnie's always been rather… vigorous in all he does… One would think… But apparently that's not enough for one Miss Granger." He grinned as Hermione glared furiously up at him, cheeks still bright pink.

"Would you like us to have a little chat with our brother?"

"Drop a few hints?"

"Pointers?"

"Blatantly obvious statements?"

"No!" Hermione yelled, rubbing her temples.

"Why ever not? Apparently, he's not exactly-"

"He's not doing anything, George!" Hermione snapped.

"Obviously," Fred snickered. "But that's easily-"

"No! You…" She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut tight as the words spilled out of her mouth. "You don't understand. He's not doing anything. _We're_ not doing anything… We _never_ _have_ done anything…"

For a long moment, the flat was silent.

"_No_," the twins breathed in unison.

"Yes," Hermione groaned, making her way to the couch and collapsing face down upon it.

"How… How is that even possible?" Fred cried. Hermione turned her head and glared at him. "I mean… Has he not met you?"

Hermione buried her head in the cushions once more with another groan. "It's not his fault," she grumbled into the cushions.

"Um… beg pardon?" asked George's voice. "All I got out of that was 'zott-sniz-faw'…"

She picked her head up and glared at him this time.

He held his hands up to shoulder height, "Excuse us for not speaking Gobbledegook."

She sighed again. "I said it's not his fault… he's not the one that's…"

An awkward silence filled the room.

"Oh," said the men, shifting their weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. George scratched the back of his neck, suddenly becoming very interested in the kitchen faucet.

Fred took a tentative step forward. "Um… Hermione? Do you… Do you want to talk about it?"

She stared at him dubiously. "You want to discuss feelings with me? Are you feeling alright? Been trying out new sweets for the shop or something?"

"Oh, you cut me to the quick!" he exclaimed melodramatically, placing a hand to his chest. "I'll have you know that I can be very sensitive and insightful!"

Hermione and George snorted in unison.

"…Okay, fine. But… maybe I – _we_- could help somehow?"

She missed the incredulous look George shot him from the other end of the couch.

"No, I don't think there is… Thanks though…"

George breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Fred's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he studied her. "Are you-"

"I don't want to talk about this, guys. We're done with this conversation. Can we go now? I want Szechuan chicken…"

Fred looked as if he was about to protest, but was cut off by a decidedly unmasculine noise that could only be classified as a giggle from his twin.

Hermione turned and raised an eyebrow at the tall red-haired man.

He gave an awkward cough. "What? Snez-qwan is a funny word!"

"Course it is," Fred laughed, "you've said it wrong."

Hermione's stomach rumbled loudly. "We are eating now," she announced, getting to her feet and grabbing her purse.

"Always the bossy one," Fred grumbled under his breath.

"I could always just leave you here… George and I will have a lovely dinner, I'm sure." George took her arm, preparing to apparate alongside her.

"What? No! I want Kung-Pao foodstuffs!" Fred cried, launching himself over the couch and to her side.

She grinned. "Thought so."

They appeared a few uncomfortable moments later in a dark back alley.

"Hell, Granger, if you wanted to ravage us so bad, you didn't have to apparate us all the way to some questionable alley," said George's voice.

"Yeah," came Fred's voice, very close to her ear. She jumped. He chuckled and she felt him move in closer. He lowered his voice. "Your flat would have been much more comfortable."

Hermione was greatful for the semi-darkness that hid her blush. "Badly," she corrected automatically. "I wanted to ravage you badly."

Her eyes widened as the twin's laughter alerted to her as to what exactly she had just said. "I – I mean – I don't-"

"Oh, there's no point trying to deny it, Granger. We know we're unfathomably handsome."

Hermione shivered as Fred's breath ghosted against her neck and leaned back instinctively, standing closer to his warmth.

"Oi, you two can ravage each other later," said George impatiently. "I want food."

Hermione gave a little start. What was she thinking? He was Fred Weasley, for Merlin's sake! Her boyfriend's brother, for one.

Oh, Merlin, that's right. She had a boyfriend. Guilt flooded through her as she berated herself for her momentary lack of judgment.

She led the twins to the restaurant, trying to convince herself that it had been merely a natural, instinctual, hormone-based reaction. It meant nothing, she was sure. Of course it didn't.

The tinkling of the chimes as pushed open the door startled her out of her muddled thoughts.

"Whoa," Fred and George whispered in unison.

Hermione turned to see what had caught their attention and had to stifle a laugh at their awestruck faces. They were gaping around the room at all of the bright wall hangings, paper lanterns, and exotic dishes.

Fred caught sight of a flaming wok and gulped audibly. "Is this considered a… erm... dangerous experience, Hermione?" he asked, eyeing the flames uneasily.

She snorted, a decidedly unfeminine sound that would make her great-grandmother roll over in her grave.

The men turned to face her, and she choked back another giggle. "Of course not!" She grinned slyly. "Why? Are you scared?"

They narrowed their eyes at the challenge. "Of course not," said George. "We were just-"

"Worried for your safety," finished Fred with a wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned with a smile to the approaching hostess.

"Table for three, please."

They sat down at a booth towards the back of the restaurant, in a peacefully secluded area.

Hermione flipped through the menu, listing recommendations to the men across from her.

The waiter came by, and, after a short and highly immature argument between the two brothers over who would order the kung-pao chicken, they placed their orders. They lapsed into small talk about the shop – which was "booming marvelously" –, and Flourish and Blotts – which was alright, but not a job she planned on making into a career -, and the general ambience of the restaurant.

The food arrived and, once again, Hermione had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing at the looks of trepidation they were giving their plates. If there was one thing the Weasley twins were good at, it was making her laugh, whether they were trying to or not.

"Uh…"

"It _is_ safe…"

"Right, Hermione?"

"Oh honestly," she huffed. "Would I try to poison you?"

They glanced at each other, looking paranoid.

"Maybe."

"Possibly."

"I could see it happening."

She rolled her eyes and took a large bite of her Szechuan chicken. "See?" she said, swallowing and grinning up at them. "Not poisoned."

"_Yours_ isn't, maybe!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Fine. I'll taste test it for you." She ate a bite first of George's Mongolian beef, then Fred's kung-pao chicken. They watched her apprehensively as she chewed, then swallowed.

"See?" she said. "Perfectly fine. Now eat! You'll like it."

The twins shared a look, then nodded at each other. Hermione ignored this silent communication, having grown used to it over the years.

Moving as one, they reached for their forks and each skewered a piece of meat off of the other's plate.

"Ready, Gred?"

"Ready, Forge."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"On three."

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three!" they announced together, popping the food into their mouths and chewing slowly.

Hermione watched in amusement as their expressions changed from those of apprehension to those of stunned delight.

"Bloody hell!" they cried, eyes wide, as they stared from Hermione to their other halves.

Hermione laughed. "Honestly, don't you two trust me? One would think that you were about to eat doxy droppings."

George went slightly green as Fred began to chuckle.

"Oh, well, Georgie here knows all about that, don't you, Georgie?"

George waved away Hermione's quizzical look. "Don't want to talk about it," he choked out.

Deciding to let the matter drop, Hermione went to take another bite of her chicken, but nearly jumped out of her seat as George's hand suddenly darted out and smacked Fred's hand, which had been steadily sneaking towards George's plate.

"Oi!" Fred snapped, nursing his red hand.

"Get your own, Alfred."

"You know, it's really quite a shame Mum didn't give you a longer name…"

George stuck his tongue out at his twin, who began to eat, the food quickly erasing his bad mood.

Their conversation fell into an easy rhythm, discussing anything and everything that came to mind, before finally settling on the latest Weasley brunch announcement. Charlie had finally brought someone home to meet his mother, for the first time in years.

"Never thought I'd see the day," declared Fred.

"Like I said," George said around a large mouthful of steamed vegetables, "I'd started to think he really _was_ having an illicit affair with his dragons…"

"Still is, mind," Fred added. "He's just tacked on something new to the list as well."

"At least I like this one. Remember that one he brought home in our fourth year?"

"That one Swedish bird? With the legs?"

George nodded and both twins shuddered, staring off into the distance.

"What was wrong with her?" Hermione asked.

"What _wasn't_ wrong with her?" Fred muttered.

"I'll never see caterpillars the same again," George moaned, his right eye twitching slightly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her imagination whirring into action.

"You don't want to know," George said, looking into his glass as if wishing to drown himself in his ginger ale.

"Point is," Fred said, gesturing towards Hermione with a forkful of chicken and vegetables, "_this_ one's sane. Normal, even. No… funny business. This one's good. Thank Merlin."

"About time," snorted George. "Mum's been going spare, what with him turning twenty-eight in December… She thinks that if he doesn't settle down by the time he's thirty… Never thought I'd see him bring home someone normal…"

"Never thought he'd bring someone home at all, after Margit…"

"Never thought he'd bring home Oliver Wood…"

There was a moment of silence in which they all stared off in different directions, pondering what Hermione had just said.

Fred and George began muttering, seemingly to themselves. Hermione caught random phrases, such as "Right you are…", "Got me there…", and "Didn't really see that one coming…"

They ate in silence for a moment.

"But, I mean… I suppose… Looking back… There were signs," mused Fred. "He was always patient… Didn't mind doing Ginny's hair and everything when he was on break from Hogwarts… Always helping Mum in the kitchen… Never took girls too seriously… He always had far too much control around those girlfriends of his… I mean, they went around practically half naked… You'd _have_ to be bent in order to be able to keep your hands away as well as he did… I'd just always chalked that up to him being a bit of a… well… playboy. Him and Oliver, both."

George snorted. "Funny, now, how we used to look up to them, innit Freddie?"

Hermione laughed. "Bit ironic, yes, all things considered."

"Now, Olie… Olie… I really didn't see that one coming…"

"Well… think about it, Fred. He was always lingering around the locker rooms… mind, I always just thought he was obsessed with the smell of sweaty Quidditch pads… He never really had a steady girlfriend… He was always so… neat…" He began to laugh. "Remember that time, when we thought… Him and Percy?" His laughter continued for a few moments before ending abruptly.

The three shared a look.

"You don't think - " Fred started. "Nah… _Percy_? I mean…"

They all made similar faces of distaste.

"Well… If they did… Hopefully this won't be too awkward. Percy has Audrey, after all, so it must have been just some… phase. If it happened at all, that is. He won't have a problem with him dating Charlie, will he?" Hermione asked, biting her lip worriedly.

"Nah, I don't think so," said George. "He seemed pretty happy for them on Sunday. It'll be fine…"

They nodded and continued to eat in silence.

"It's quite a shame, really, in some ways," Hermione considered. "So many girls would give up their wands to be with either of them… And here they are with each other! It's funny really."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Everyone knows we're the best looking Weasley boys. And anyways, more for us. We'll gladly let them cry on our shoulders."

George shoved Fred playfully, but hard enough to knock the suggestive smirk off of his face. "Speak for yourself. I don't want any of those crazy birds. Not to mention, Angie would have my wand."

"If you know what I mean," Fred said, suggestive smirk back in place.

Hermione rolled her eyes again as George laughed appreciatively. "That too!"

"Well, good on him," Fred announced after a moment, with a tone of finality, as if the matter was settled.

"To Charlie and Oliver – our dragon obsessed brother and his equally Quidditch obsessed boyfriend," George declared, raising his glass in a toast. The others followed suit and drank to the new couple.

"Two fanatics under one roof. Merlin help them," Fred mumbled, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "I can see Oliver waking Charlie up at three in the morning to go over the division of the weekly chores…"

All three laughed at the image and finished off their meals, Fred and George regaling Hermione with stories of Charlie's terrible past girlfriends. Hermione was glad for this excuse to not speak. She let herself get lost in the stories, letting herself forget all about the afternoon's awkwardness.

The bill came towards the end of a particularly horrifying story of a Romanian girl called Crina and Hermione paid with muggle money, which the Weasley twins found utterly fascinating ("Thinner than parchment…", "You can fold it?", "Why's this old bird not moving?", "This is all money? What a weird shape…").

The waiter returned with the change and fortune cookies, effectively changing the topic of the Weasley's rapid fire questions.

"What are these?" asked George, holding a fortune cookie up to his eye for inspection.

"Fortune cookies. You break them in half… like… so…" Hermione explained, demonstratin the process, "and read your fortune, then eat the cookie."

Fred quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the slip of paper. "Fortune? Thought you hated Trelawney…"

"It's not a _real_ fortune, Fred, it's not divination. It's just a muggle thing. See, mine says 'The key to your future lies before you.'"

George smiled, throwing his arm around his twin's shoulders and winking at the witch sitting before them. Catching his drift, Fred looped his arm around George's shoulder as well and wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione.

"What?" she asked, munching on her cookie.

"So."

"Granger."

"Which one will it be?"

"Oi, how many times do I have to remind you? I am a taken man!"

Hermione shook her head and smiled good naturedly at the twins' antics, holding out their cookies. "And, in case you've forgotten, I'm dating your brother."

George pulled a face. "Yes, but _why_? 'Keep a close eye on those dear to you,'" he read. "That's not a fortune! That's just… advice!" He turned suddenly to his twin, looking suspicious. "Fred… Have you been putting boiling powder in my underwear again?"

Fred scoffed. "What am I, thirteen? No, I put it in your socks. 'Happiness will come from an unexpected source.' Brilliant. Malfoy's going to come declare his undying love for me next week at the shop."

"Why does everyone get good fortunes but me?" George grumbled as they stood and made their way out of the restaurant and back into the alleyway.

"What can I tell you, Georgie? The universe knows I'm the better looking twin."

"Right. That's why you've ended up with Malfoy, while I've got the beauteous Angelina Johnson."

"If you two are done arguing," Hermione interrupted, holding out her arms. They shrugged and each took an arm as she apparated them back to her flat.

**A/N: I was going to continue this chapter, but decided to split it into two at this point once I realized that I'm currently at ten pages on Microsoft Word (which makes this, incidentally, the longest chapter I have ever written).**

**Yes, I know that fortune cookies are really an American tradition, but hey, they're fun!**

**I know that Fred's name is most commonly assumed to be Frederick, but honestly, I just think George and Alfred sounds better than George and Frederick… Plus, Alfred has a bit of a quirk to it that I think fits our prankster wonderfully**

**I want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and have added this story to your favorites and story alerts I'm so happy you are enjoying this story! What did you think of this chapter? I welcome constructive criticism wholeheartedly!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I can't believe how many people have reviewed or put this story on alert! Thank you so much; I love you all! And now, without further ado…**

Chapter 3

"Would you two like anything? Tea? Coffee?" Hermione offered as soon as they walked through the door.

"Tea's fine," said George, at the same time that Fred cried "Ooh, coffee! Marvelous, that stuff is!"

Hermione went to the kitchen, filled the kettle and coffee pot with water and began to heat them up as the twins sat down on the couch. "If you say so, Yoda," she called back.

"Umm… what?" came Fred's voice.

"Little green… alien… thing… It's a muggle thing. From a movie."

"Ooh, I like movies!" Fred yelled.

"What's an alien?" George asked.

Hermione sighed, leaning against the counter, and stared at the cupboard opposite her as if she would find an explanation written in the grain of the wood. It was difficult sometimes, to find a middle ground between her two worlds. "It's… hard to explain… I'd have to show you, I suppose."

"The movie?" Fred asked hopefully. She heard the couch squeak a few times – trust Fred to be bouncing up and down in his seat like a child. She had shown them their first movie, _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_, a few weeks ago and they had been immediately fascinated by the muggle invention. Harry had a television also, but no VCR.

Hermione smiled as the kettle began to whistle. She poured the three cups and brought them out to the living room. "Sure, I think I have it somewhere around here. If we start in now, it should be over by… around… eleven? Or twelve? Hmm…" she mused, handing the twins their mugs. They nodded in thanks. "Maybe we should watch it another time…"

Fred waved away her words impatiently. "It's the weekend! Live a little! It's not like we have anywhere to be."

"Oh damn," George spluttered, coughing on the tea he had just swallowed. "I forgot! I told Angie I'd go over to her place for a few hours right after dinner to help her pack for her trip. The Arrows are going to a training clinic in France for three days." He took another large swig of tea, wincing slightly as the hot liquid hit the back of his throat. "Looks like you two are on your own for the movie. Are you staying, Freddie?"

Fred frowned. "You sure you don't mind missing the movie?"

A fleeting look of disappointment crossed George's face, but he shrugged. "I can always see it later, right, Hermione?"

"Yeah, sure. Of course," she agreed quickly.

"Do you mind if I stay?" Fred asked, looking torn.

Hermione shook her head. "No, of course not. I don't have any big plans. Ginny and I were just going to have a movie night. I'd be glad for the company, to be honest."

"Right, well that's settled. You can't leave now even if you wanted to, mate. It's your duty to keep her company," George said, not quite making sense, still drinking his tea as quickly as possible without causing serious damage to his tongue.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure." He shot Hermione a look along the lines of 'Where is this bloke's mind right now?'

George took one last sip of his tea and got to his feet, shrugging his coat back on. "Oh yeah, before I forget." He pulled out a few galleons and sickles from his pocket and held them out to Hermione. "For dinner."

Hermione nodded. It had become their custom for Hermione to pay for dinners when they ate out in muggle London, and for them to pay her back for their share in wizard money later. He handed her the money and pulled her into a hug.

"Thanks again for the tea, Hermione," he said, releasing her and making his way towards the door, pausing momentarily to playfully shove his brother's shoulder. "See you back at the flat, Fred."

"Hah. Yeah right. See you around ten in the morning, more like it."

"Don't I wish, little brother. But no, unfortunately the fair lady is leaving tomorrow morning, so I'll probably be back around midnight. Goodnight, you lot."

Hermione wished him goodbye as Fred shouted "Oi, I'm older than you by seven minutes!" A small pop sounded from out in the hall, signaling George's departure.

"And then there were two… Sit down, Hermione; it's your flat for Merlin's sake."

Hermione smiled and set her mug down on the coffee table. "In a minute. I'm going to set up the movie."

"Um… Hermione?" Fred called after her.

She turned to face him, surprised by his anxious expression.

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Um… Would you-… Do you-… Is it okay if we- ...um… _Don't_ watch the movie?"

Hermione's brow furrowed further in confusion. "Sure… That's fine. We don't have to watch it tonight… I thought you loved movies, though."

"I do!" he insisted. "It's just… uh… I feel weird watching a new movie without George being here," he finished in a rush, smiling sheepishly up at her.

She smiled slightly, trying not to notice how adorable he looked sitting on the couch, grinning up at her so innocently. She nearly scoffed out loud – Fred Weasley? Innocent? – but realized just in time that that would quite possibly be the worst thing to do at the moment, when he was looking so… She didn't know what exactly. Insecure. The look was foreign to her on Fred's normally cheerful, confident face. She smiled a bit wider, desperate to put him at ease and bring back the happy grin. "Okay," she nodded, "I understand."

And she did. Fred and George had always done everything together. Even now, though they had grown older and more independent, they did not like to do anything new or important without their twin. She should have known that a movie would fall under this category in a Weasley mind.

"Well, I-"

"No, Fred, really. I understand. I do. It's fine."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," she said. "What would you like to do instead, then?"

He considered for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Can we watch the VT?"

"TV?" she asked, amused. Between her television and Harry's, the Weasleys could not get enough. "Sure. I think… What time is it? Perfect."

"What?"

"There's a Muggle program starting in a bit that I think you'll love," she said, crossing the room to the television and grabbing for the remote.

She was in the process of fiddling with the buttons, intent on the screen, when the sudden, firm pressure of two large hands on either side of her waist caused her to nearly jump out of her skin. She shrieked and reached for her wand, but her attacker was quicker than her, and grasped her wrist firmly in one large hand. She struggled, kicking and writhing, but the assailant only held her tighter, pulling her in closer to his body.

"Oi!" cried the attacker. "Shh… It's me, Hermione. It's me, Fred. Fred Weasley. It's alright."

She stopped struggling and turned slowly in his arms, standing stiffly, still on alert. "F-Fred?"

She stared up into his green eyes, filled with concern. He slowly released her wrist and brought a hand up to smooth her hair back. "Yes, it's me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

He pulled her tight to him, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing small circles on her back. They stood in silence, the only sound in the room coming from the television, turned down low. Hermione let herself enjoy his warmth, his comforting embrace, letting go of the last bits of fear, anger quickly taking its place.

Without warning, she put her hands against his chest and shoved him away from her. "Alfred Weasley!" she screeched. He stumbled back, looking shocked. "What the _hell_ do you think you are doing?"

"What? I-"

"Coming up behind me? Putting your hands on my waist?"

"Hermione, I-"

"What were you thinking?"

"I-"

"Explain yourself!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M TRYING TO DO, YOU MAD WOMAN?" he roared, breathing hard.

She blinked in surprise at the red face, the flailing arms, the wild look in his eyes, and nodded stiffly. "I'm sorry. Continue."

He took a deep breath, relaxing slightly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to pull you down to sit on the couch with me. You haven't sat down once since we got here. I swear that's all I was going to do. Just… You know, grab you and throw you, like we used to do when we were younger, at the Burrow. I just meant to surprise you, not scare you."

There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, Hermione grudgingly admitted to herself. She took a deep breath, feeling her anger dissipate, leaving her feeling absolutely humiliated.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

She buried her head in her hands and groaned in embarrassment. "No, Fred. _I'm_ sorry. I – I totally overreacted."

"No, it's-"

"It's just… That bloody war!" she cried, flinging herself down on the couch.

Fred hesitated, opening and shutting his mouth, not sure if he should speak. He decided against speaking, but sat down next to her, hoping it would prompt her to speak.

"It messed me up, Fred. I'm not the same anymore."

"…So?"

"So? SO? What do you mean, 'so?'"

"Calm down, Hermione. You're being melodramatic and it doesn't suit you."

If she hadn't been so shocked, she probably would have hexed him. "Melodr-"

"Yes. You think you're the only one who is messed up because of the war? Seriously? Well you're not," he snapped in a harsh tone she had never heard from him before. She blinked in astonishment, not able to speak. "Do you know how many people died?" he demanded. "Do you _really_? Everywhere in the world? How many lives were changed? It's a given of war, Hermione. You aren't special."

Hermione swelled with anger, memories flooding back to her. The battle, Godric's Hollow… Malfoy Manor… Fred didn't know any of it; he didn't know what he was talking about! But as soon as it came, the anger was gone. He was right. His words stung like a slap to the face, but they were true. She wasn't special. She was just like all the rest. They had all been through the same thing; they had all been hurt. They all had scars. Hell, Fred had nearly died, for Merlin's sake. She was being stupid. Stupid and selfish.

"I – I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to say that… It came out all wrong. I-"

"No," she whispered, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out. "You're right. Absolutely right."

"Herm-"

"It's fine." She gave him a small smile and nodded. "Really, it is. I'm sorry. I overreacted. It's just… I spent so many months on high alert when I was with Harry and Ron… And… Well, I guess I never went off. When people come up on me suddenly or grab me when I'm not expecting it… It's like I'm back at the battle, back on the run. I'm trying to get over it, really I am, it's just… hard," she finished, staring down at her hands, feeling ashamed. She felt so weak.

Fred pulled her into a tight hug. "It's okay," he said as he released her. "I understand. Really."

She nodded gratefully.

"Now, let's just pretend for now that all that didn't happen, yeah?"

She nodded again and reached for her coffee. Thankfully, it was still hot.

"Yeah. The program I was telling you about should be on any moment now."

"What is it?" he asked, grabbing his coffee mug and taking a swig as he settled into the other side of the couch, putting a respectable distance between them now that the soul baring was through.

"It's…" Her face fell slightly. How was she going to explain this one? "Um… It's an American program. It takes place in New York… You've heard of that, right?"

Fred raised an eyebrow. "I'm a wizard, not a flubberworm."

"Just making sure," she said, raising her hands in mock defense. "It's basically about a group of friends that live in New York. But…"

"But what?"

"Well… It's a muggle program. Completely muggle… I'm not sure if you'll like it at all. I don't know if you'll get all the jokes…" She bit her lip, feeling unsure.

Fred laughed. Actually laughed at her. Ignoring Hermione's glare, he said, "I'm sure it will be fine. In any case, a TB program I don't understand is better than no TB program at all. These muggles are ingenious…"

"Right… Well just remember, they can't do-"

"Magic. Yeah, I know. That happens to be the definition of a muggle, in fact."

Hermione raised an eyebrow challengingly, but he just laughed.

The familiar theme song began to play and Hermione turned up the volume. "Ooh, it's on!"

They settled back against the cushions to watch.

Hermione wasn't really watching. Her mind was still too preoccupied with other thoughts. Fred, it seemed, was having the time of his life, muggle references be damned.

…

"That was brilliant!" Fred cried as the credits rolled thirty minutes later.

"You liked it?" she asked.

"It was great! Bloody hilarious! Did you see the part with the chair?"

"I take it you understood the jokes then?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "Enough, at least. Is that on every night?"

"No, just once a week, usually. It's not all that reliable though. The show comes from America, and the television has enchantments and things to allow it to work in the wizarding world, but sometimes things get scrambled up. The technology is rather new."

Fred nodded, staring at the screen, muttering something that sounded like a repetition of "Brilliant. Brilliant, these muggles."

Hermione untucked her legs from under her and got to her feet, stretching her stiff muscles. "You want anything? Tea? More coffee?" she asked, gathering their mugs and making her way towards the kitchen.

"Um…"

"Since when are you shy? I'm going to make myself some tea. What would you like?"

"Tea, please, then."

Hermione bustled around the kitchen, putting the water on the stove and preparing the tea bags, humming softly to herself. The water boiled quickly and she poured the cups, adding some milk and sugar to Fred's, and some lemon and honey to hers. Making a split decision, she grabbed some biscuits out of the cupboard and brought everything back to the living room.

She stopped dead in the doorway.

Fred was lounging on the couch where she had left him, _reading her book_. "Fred!" she shrieked.

He looked up calmly. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Reading."

She gaped at him, horrified, at a loss for words.

"Thanks for the tea, Hermione. Cream and sugar?"

She stared at him for a moment, processing.

He smirked. "Well, feel free to sit down any time you're ready. I would suggest closing your mouth sooner rather than later though, before a pixie flies in."

Hermione shut her mouth, momentarily distracted by her confusion. "A… pixie?"

Fred nodded. "It's a wizard thing. Or, at least, a Weasley thing. Mum used to say that to us when we were younger. Are you planning on sitting any time soon or can I… what did you call it the other day? Sprall out?"

"I'm… I'm sitting," she said, crossing to the couch and perching awkwardly on the edge.

He reached over and took the tea from her hand, eyes back on the book. "Thanks."

"Can I have my book back?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'm enjoying it," he said absently. "Can I have a biscuit?"

"Fred, you can't read my book!"

"Really? _'Suzanne gasped as the blacksmith's delightfully callused hands ghosted over her bare flesh. She moaned as he kneaded her supple-'_"

"FRED!" she yelped, blushing profusely. The words sounded completely different coming from his mouth.

"See? I can read it just fine," he winked.

She gulped, shifting uncomfortably. "Fred-"

"Hermione, what's the big deal? It's a book. What? Afraid I'll be corrupted?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I - … No…"

"Good. Anyways, I'm incorruptible," he said with a wink, plucking a biscuit out of her hand and munching on it.

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

"Unlike you, apparently," he smirked.

She glared at him, snatching another stolen biscuit back out of his hand and stuffing it in her mouth. "You _had_ to go there."

"Oi! That was mine!"

"Turnabout's fair play."

"Slytherin."

"Biscuitnapper."

He grabbed another biscuit out of her hand. "Just living up to my name." He blinked innocently at her indignant face.

"You're incorrigible."

"And you're easily annoyed." He gave her a winning grin.

She huffed, all comebacks disappearing from her mind with that one quirk of his full lips. _Damn Fred Weasley and his charming ways, _she thought.

They sat in silence for a moment as Fred read – to Hermione's humiliation – and Hermione sipped her tea, feeling unbelievably awkward.

Fred Weasley. In her flat. Reading. Her romance novel.

Then he laughed. She stared at him in disbelief – what was there to laugh at in an erotic novel? "Oh, this is terrible…" he muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"This is so unrealistic! I mean, really? Who does that?"

"What?" she demanded.

"Any of this! Even the realistic things… Merlin, this book is terrible. Please tell me you haven't been reading these as textbooks."

She said nothing.

"Hermione?" he asked, sounding part apprehensive, part amused.

She sipped her tea, avoiding his eye.

"You haven't," he breathed, gaping at her. "Oh, Merlin, no wonder you have problems with this." He laughed, earning him another glare from Hermione.

"It's not funny!"

"Yes it is! Hermione Granger, reading a romantic novel to learn sex tips! And here I was thinking you were just trying to get off!"

"You crude little- … You crass- I don't even have a word for you!" she cried, jumping to her feet and throwing a pillow at his head with as much force as she could muster. He batted it away easily, to her annoyance, and it fell back to the couch, looking innocent as ever.

"Just making an observation," he said calmly. "But, really? Of all the ways to learn-"

"Well how would you suggest I learn, then, if I'm so _stupid_?"

"Hey, I never called you stupid," he said, suddenly serious. "But, seeing as you asked, just about anything would be better than this book."

"Such as?"

"Another, non-awful erotic book? Something informative?"

"Don't you think I've tried that?"

"Then why not – heaven forbid – _ask_ somebody?"

"A-Ask somebody?" she spluttered. "What? Hey, Molly, can I talk to you? Yeah, that will go over nicely for all involved."

Speaking slowly, as if talking to a three-year-old, he said "Not my _mum_. Sheesh. Here I was thinking you were intelligent. Don't you have friends? Ask them!"

"Like who?"

"That one bird… What was her name… Your old roommate… The psychotic one… Lavender! She would probably write you a whole guide book if you asked her to. The twins… Podma and Pavrati… They'd probably give you some tips."

"Padma and Parvati, you mean?"

"Yeah, sure, them. Luna… well, I wouldn't go asking her; she probably gets up to all sorts of weird things in the bedroom, not exactly trustworthy for a mainstream testimony. And, if worse comes to worst - As much as it disgusts me - I suppose there's always Ginny."

"Hmm… I suppose… But no. Lavender, Parvati, and Padma would give me far too much information – I'd never be able to look some of my coworkers in the eye again. I've never been able to see Anthony Goldstein the same after they all gave me their different accounts of _that_… Honestly, all three within one week… The slime ball." Fred gave a low whistle, which Hermione ignored. "Luna is… Luna. And I really don't want the visual of Harry doing anything even remotely… like that."

"Like what?" he asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

"You know what."

"No, I'm sorry, I can't say that I do." He leaned back, putting his feet on the coffee table, ankles crossed, and stretched his hands dramatically up and behind his head, the picture of confident relaxation.

"Fred, stop being obtusely obstinate."

"Ah, big words." He winked. Adopting an airy, innocent tone, he said, "I'm sorry Hermione, but I simply don't know what you could possibly be referring to."

"Fred-" she sighed, sounding dangerously close to a whine.

"I'm afraid you may just have to say it, Hermione. Spell it out, so to speak. I'm terribly – what was it? – obtuse, you see."

She glared at his self-satisfied expression.

"You don't want the visual of Harry doing anything remotely – what?" he prompted, eyes glinting mischievously.

"Fred-"

"Come on, Granger. It's just a word."

"Oh, so you _do_ know what I mean."

"Ah, ah, now, I just pointed out the obvious. It had to be either a word or a phrase. Though I'm completely and utterly clueless as to what that word or phrase may be."

"You're incorrigible."

"So you've told me. Come now, Granger, enlighten me! No visuals of Harry doing anything…"

"Sexual," she mouthed, blushing furiously, not meeting his eyes.

"Beg pardon?"

She repeated herself a bit louder through gritted teeth, wishing she could smack the smirk right off his face.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I thought it was George who had the bad ear," she said venomously.

"Well, you know what they say about twins," he said with a wink. Hermione wondered vindictively how many more winks his eye could take before it fell out. She'd make it possible. "Twins are connected in many ways. Now if you could say it just _one more time_? I _am_ an old man, you know."

She raised an eyebrow. "You just turned twenty-two."

"Precisely. Now, as you were saying? You don't want to visualize Harry doing anything…"

"Sexual!" she shouted. "There! Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Wonder what the neighbors are thinking now. Nice of you to inform them of our topic of conversation."

"I hope a gnome bites you in the ankle."

"Hmm, violent. Never thought you were into _that_ type of thing."

She grabbed a pillow and walloped him with all her might. He threw the pillow away from himself and winked cheekily. "My, Granger, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Shut it."

"Fine then," he said, laughing lightly and getting to his feet. "I suppose it's about time I headed home anyways. Thanks for everything. Kung Pao is delicious."

She blinked, surprised by the quick end to their banter.

"You're…welcome…?" she said, though it came out like a question. She stood as he shrugged on his coat and pulled her in for a goodbye hug.

He made his way to the door, but stopped, hand on the handle. He turned to face her and ran a hand through his red hair. "Uh… Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Ron's a git…"

"…Alright…"

"What I mean to say is… Don't let him do anything you don't want to do… And stop reading that trash. It'll be okay. It's not as bad as you think it is… Quite the opposite, actually."

Hermione rolled her eyes as he threw yet another wink in her direction. "Just when I thought you were being a mature, considerate human being."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that, Granger?" he grinned. "But really. If you need anything… Anyone to… talk to… I am here… And I promise not to take the mickey out of you _too_ badly."

"Erm, thanks, Fred," she muttered, feeling confused. Since when did Fred offer to talk about important issues? _Since today, apparently, _a small voice pointed out in the back of her mind, reminding her of the recent events of the evening.

He nodded, smiling semi-awkwardly, and pulled her into another hug. "Anytime. Goodnight."

She stared up at him, still feeling slightly dazed by his sudden shift in attitude. "Night," she managed to whisper as he pulled away and opened the door. There was a small pop as he apparated away, and the door swung shut behind him.

**A/N: Twelve pages! WHOO! I technically could have drawn this chapter out longer as well, but A) It's twelve pages already, and B) I wanted to put this up before I leave for Disneyland . Soo… Sewing the seeds for later plotlines. How do you feel about this chapter? Leave a review and tell me what you loved, what you hated, what you didn't understand, what you think I should consider, what you had for breakfast, etc. Oh! And be sure to check out the poll on my profile – A chapter in Fred's POV – yay or nay? Let me know what you think**


	4. Chapter 4

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed and favorited and ... story alerted? Is that the appropriate verb? You guys are awesome, and I'm glad you are enjoying the story :-)**

**Special shoutout to _Krystal Alspaugh _for her awesomely helpful review. I kept his scenes seperate, just for people like you :-) I hadn't thought of that, so thank you for bringing it to my mind! Haha**

**Also thank you to Elmo and Left Side (oooh, code names!) for being my unofficial betas. Thanks for reading my 10000005 attatchments with varying versions of the chapters and telling me what sucks and what doesn't!**

**I've made a few edits here and there in previous chapters, nothing too big, just changed around some ages because I've completely butchered my math. My corrections: Ron turned 20 just over one month ago (in March); Charlie is turning 28 in December, not 30; and Percy and Audrey are engaged, not married. Sorry, everyone!**

**And...that is all! Enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine**

Chapter 4

"Hermione! Oh, I wasn't expecting you so early! Come in, come in!"

Hermione accepted the hug and stepped into one of her favorite places in the world – the Burrow. "Sorry. I woke up early and had nothing else to do, so I figured I could come over and help you cook. I can come back later if you-"

Mrs. Weasley waved her words away. "It's fine, fine! Now, let me look at you," she ordered, holding Hermione out at an arms-length, the better to examine her face.

"Mrs. Weasley, you just saw me last week. I can't have started looking 'entirely too thin' within a week of a Weasley brunch."

"No, no, not that!" Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "No, there's something… different about you. New promotion? New book store open up? Did you get that new shipment of alchemy books from those Indonesian monks?" She gasped. "Did you get any news about your-"

"No. Nothing yet."

An awkward silence hung in the air for a few moments. Hermione did not like talking about her parents, lost living who-knows-where in Australia as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Seeing Mrs. Weasley's apprehensive face, Hermione forced the thoughts to the back of her mind again and smiled. "No, I'm just in a really good mood."

"Oh. Well that's lovely. Any particular reason?"

"No, not really. I had a nice time with the twins last night. We went to a muggle restaurant; you should have seen their faces! They were – Um… Nice apron, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, choking back a grin.

"I – Oh… Yes…" Mrs. Weasley blushed scarlet and smoothed invisible wrinkles on her bright neon green apron, emblazoned with the words: _True bravery is cooking bacon naked!_ Hermione pressed her lips tightly together, trying very hard not to laugh. "It was a gift from Fred and George."

"Ah," Hermione said, finally giving in to the fit of giggles bubbling up inside her. "That makes more sense. I like it. What'd Mr. Weasley say when he saw it?"

Mrs. Weasley dropped her voice to a whisper, looking around conspiratorially. "He said that he's glad he married a Gryffindor and that all the children are gone… And that the color was absurd."

Both women laughed, Hermione feeling more than slightly disturbed, and moved into the kitchen.

"Would you like any help, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Oh, no, dear, thank you. I think I've got it all under control. Just go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Ron's upstairs, actually. I'd forgotten. The ghoul in the attic threw a fit around two in the morning, and Ron's the only one who's ever been able to calm him down. Turns out the ghoul was upset because it's been too quiet for too long in his attic without Ron's snoring every night."

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. "Of course. I'll just go wake him up then. We'll be down in a bit, Mrs. Weasley. Call me if you need any help."

Mrs. Weasley waved her away again and returned to her potatoes.

Hermione turned with a smile and made her way up the winding wooden staircase to the highest floor. She knocked on the bright pink door – permanent and impeterbable, thanks to the twins, in celebration of Ron's 20th birthday last month, but there was no answer. "Ron?" she called. No response. "I'm coming in."

She turned the handle and had to blink a few times as her eyes adjusted to the familiar bright orange paint and posters coating every wall. "Ron? Oh, honestly."

There was her boyfriend, sprawled on his bed, snoring loudly, blankets flung haphazardly around him as a result of his tossing and turning.

She crossed the room to his bed and shook him gently. "Ron… Ron, wake up… Rooon…"

"Mm?" He stirred and blinked groggily up at her.

"Ron, it's time to get up."

"Mm, hey 'Mione." He grinned sleepinly up at her and pulled her down for a kiss.

"Ron," she said, pulling away after a moment. "We have to go downstairs."

"Come on, just a few more minutes? Come lay with me." He rolled over to the side and patted the open half of the bed.

"I – I can't."

"Why not? Come on, just a few minutes."

"We have to get downstairs-"

"To hell we do. It's-" He checked the nearby clock. "Bloody hell, 'Mione, it's seven in the morning on a Sunday! No self-respecting Weasley will be _awake_ until 8:30 at the earliest, let alone be here. Come on…"

"But your mum's here…"

"'S never stopped you before." He grinned and pulled her down for another kiss. He wrapped his arms gently around her waist and guided her into a sitting position on his bed.

"Ron," she breathed against his lips, trying to pull away. She held herself stiffly, trying to resist the gentle pulling of his fingers on her hips. It felt wrong, all wrong. His lips were hard and dry, his insistent pulling on her was getting on her nerves, his arms felt more like a cage than an embrace.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling up at her. He raised a hand and brushed a piece of hair out of her face. "Relax. I'm not going to do anything."

Hermione stared into his blue eyes, sleepy concern coloring the kind eyes. She shook herself mentally. This was Ron. Her best friend and boyfriend of over two years. What was her problem? But her internal monologue did nothing to ease the strange anxiety that had been building in her stomach for the past few weeks.

"'Mione?" he asked, sitting up slightly.

She swallowed, blinked back the tears of confusion pricking the corners of her eyes, and pressed her lips to his before she could change her mine.

She felt him grin against her lips and allowed herself to be guided down to the mattress. She let her mind wander, desperate to think of anything but how wrong she felt, thinking back to her conversation with Fred the night before. He had been far more understanding than she had ever imagined and – most difficult to believe- offered to help in any way he could… Maybe she would talk to him at brunch, or send him an owl later. _Saying what?_ she asked herself. _'Dear Fred, when I kiss your brother, I feel like I'm kissing a huge metal birdcage?' That would go over well. Ten points to Gryffindor for the use of pathetic, overly-poetic simile… I've been reading too many of those novels._

"You okay?" Ron asked as he kissed up and down her neck. Hermione started guiltily from her reverie. "You seem… a bit… preoccupied," he said, in between hisses to her jaw.

She nodded. "I'm fine. We should be going downstairs."

Ron sighed, but sat up without complaint. He climbed out of her bed and grabbed the pile of clothes he must have brought with him from his flat. He left the room to go to the bathroom down the hall, talking all the way about his experience with the ghoul.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, not listening to a word.

_What's wrong with me?_

* * *

><p>"Damn it, Harry!" Ron cried as Harry's knight took his bishop.<p>

Harry smiled smugly. "Keep your eyes on the board and off your girlfriend."

Hermione shifted awkwardly from her spot on Ron's lap. She had just wanted to watch the game, but Ron had snatched her around the waist and plopped her down on top of him, claiming her as his "good luck charm" and ignoring her protests that she was "not some kind of trophy".

"Hey! I-"

The fireplace roared with bright green flames and died down to reveal a very frazzled looking Ginny Weasley. Hermione made to get up as Ginny stepped out of the fire, but Ron seemed not to notice, and did not release her from his hold. Ginny came towards them and threw herself down on the couch with a loud sigh.

"That good, huh?" Harry asked, leaning over to give her a quick peck on her lips.

"Terrible. So much chaos. We had finally gotten the bludger under control and cleaned up the damage when Jacobs let the bludger out again by accident, and we had start again from the beginning. I'm running on three hours of sleep – _maybe_."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made sounds of sympathy, and the boys returned to the game as Ginny closed her eyes, evidently eager to get any and all sleep possible. Hermione slumped against Ron's chest in defeat, surrendering herself to boredom.

Five minutes later, the Floo roared again, spitting out two men – one tall and thickly built, the other shorter and leaner.

"Charlie!" Hermione called in greeting. "Oliver! Good morning!" Once again, she tried to stand, but Ron was too focused on his next move to notice. She huffed in annoyance and smiled apologetically at the new arrivals.

"Morning, Hermy!" Charlie cried cheerily, the only morning person out of all of the Weasley siblings.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the nickname as Charlie crossed the room and kissed her on the cheek.

"I see my dear sister is already asleep. Tough practice?"

Hermione nodded. "Rogue bludger."

Charlie and Oliver grimaced knowingly, both all too familiar with the trouble caused by wild bludgers.

"She didn't get hit, did she?" Oliver asked, peering concernedly at Ginny's head.

"Don't think so…" Hermione muttered, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of that beforehand.

"It's fine," Oliver assured her, noticing her guilty look. "I can run a diagnostic on her right now. Learned how two weeks ago." He winked playfully and moved closer to the couch.

"Thanks, mate," Harry said distractedly, not looking away from the chess board.

"Healer training is going well, then?" Hermione asked Charlie.

Charlie smiled fondly at his boyfriend. "Yep. He's doing great. He's finally accepted that I was right, and thanked me for forcing him to apply."

"Shut it, you," Oliver said, frowning playfully. "Ginny's fine. Just tired."

Hermione and Charlie nodded, waiting for Harry or Ron to say something. When neither spoke, Charlie asked, "Have they been like this all morning?"

Hermione shook her head. "Just the past few minutes. They were insulting each other after every move before that."

Oliver nodded. "They always have taken chess rather seriously."

"Crunch time," Ron said distractedly, before returning to the game.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Escape while you can."

"Don't have to tell me twice. Come on, Ol, let's go see if Dad needs help with… anything."

They laughed and Charlie and Oliver left the room, leaving Hermione alone with the preoccupied men and sleeping Ginny.

She sighed in annoyance and tried to shift into another position on Ron's lap.

"Check!" Harry cried.

Ron swore and stared at the board, if possible, even more intently.

"Why don't you move your-"

"Shh, 'Mione, I'm trying to think!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes but did not try to help him again. It was blatantly obvious - all he had to do was take Harry's castle with his remaining bishop and he'd be out of check. But obviously, he didn't want her help. The anger and annoyance was bubbling to a dangerous level now. _Fine_, she thought. _Fine_.

Harry gave her an apologetic look, but said nothing.

"Aha!" Ron crowed smugly two full minutes later, moving his bishop exactly the way that Hermione had been about to point out. "Take that, Potter."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her head to watch the negotiations Oliver and Charlie were making with the gnomes in the backyard. This was a new method of Mrs. Weasley's invention – The gnomes were beginning to get rebellious after so many years of being flung unceremoniously over the hedge, and seemed particularly partial to Oliver's Scottish brogue.

Hermione heard the crack of apparition as Bill and Fleur entered the house, followed soon after by Percy and his fiencee, Audrey, but Harry and Ron made no indication of having noticed anything at all apart from their game.

_Worse than Quidditch_, Hermione thought to herself. _I hope Mrs. Weasley gets breakfast done soon…_

The fire burned green again, spitting out first one than another tall, redheaded man. "George! Fred!" Hermione cried, thankful for the distraction. They would help her escape somehow if she asked them to.

"CHECK MATE!" Ron roared triumphantly. Harry swore loudly and leaned against the couch, running his fingers through his hair. "'Mione, did you see that? I won!"

"Well done, Ronald," Hermione said, trying hard to sound pleasant.

"What? No congratulatory kiss?" he asked, squeezing her gently.

"Ron, there are other people here and we are being rude."

"So? It's Harry and my brothers. They don't mind."

"Ron, let me up."

"What? Why?"

"Just let me go!"

"Not until I get a kiss," he whispered in her ear, nuzzling her hair affectionately.

"Ron, I want to say hello. Let me up." She pulled at his forearms, but he held, if anything, tighter.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?" He asked, frowning in annoyance. "They're my _brothers_, not the Ministers of Magic."

"Ron," George said warningly.

Hermione pulled again unsuccessfully at Ron's arms.

"Ron, let her go," George ordered, his voice low and deadly serious.

Ron looked around the room, looking equal parts annoyed and confused. "Fine then…" He unwrapped his arms from Hermione's middle and she stood quickly, before he could change his mind.

A tense, awkward silence followed, broken only by Mrs. Weasley calling, "Kids! Breakfast!"

"I- I'll – Tell your mum I'll be right down," Hermione said to the room in general before turning and making her way up the stairs to Ginny's old room as fast as she could without running.

She closed the door behind her and slumped against it, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes as if attempting to physically restrain the tears on the way. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and took a few shaky breaths, trying to compose herself. She tried to make her mind blank, to rid the events of the last few minutes from her mind. She counted backwards by threes, then by sevens, the necessary concentration effectively distracting her brain. She took another deep breath and stood up. She nodded, shook herself slightly, and opened the door.

"Oh, there you are, dear!" Mrs. Weasley called when Hermione entered the kitchen. "Sit down, sit down. I've made those waffle things just for you."

"More like just for you _and_ the twins," Ginny muttered, irritable about being woken up.

"Oi, stop complaining and eat your eggs, Gin," Charlie said. "You're right unpleasant to deal with before you've eaten."

"Just because _you_ haven't had the opportunity to eat waffles before…" George said, pouring syrup on his stack of seven.

Hermione sat down slowly in her usual seat next to Ron across from the twins, avoiding everyone's eyes.

She sat silently, listening to the siblings' banter.

"Are you feeling well, Hermione? You haven't eaten a thing."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I don't feel very well."

George rolled his eyes and reached for Hermione's plate. Wordlessly, he piled on some toast, a waffle, eggs, bacon, and fruit, and placed the plate back in front of her. "You're hungry. Eat something."

Hermione sighed, but took a bite of toast.

Looking up, she caught Fred's eye.

He cocked his head, raising his eyebrows questioningly at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

He flicked his eyes towards Ron – who was deep in conversation with Oliver about his Quidditch days – and back.

Hermione grimaced.

Fred nodded.

George, having witnessed the silent conversation, began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing, sister mine. I was just remembering that time when you were thirteen and you came running into the kitchen with – OW!"

Ginny smirked as George rubbed his shin in pain. "Oh, yes, that _was_ funny," she said sweetly. "You know what'd be even funnier? If I took your wand and shoved it up your-"

"Ginevera Molly Weasley!"

"Sorry, Mum."

"Yeah, Ginny, watch your mouth."

"Shut it, unless you want me to curse your _other_ ear off."

"Tsk, tsk, such violence… At least then I wouldn't have to listen to your whining."

"I do not whine!"

Hermione turned out their argument and thought back to her exchange with Fred. _He really _does_ care_, she thought. Catching his eyes again, she made a rash decision.

"Can I talk you after you're done eating?" The words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying. It took her a moment – and the sight of Fred's embarrassed face and George's amusement – to realize that Fred had said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

They smiled awkwardly at each other and nodded.

"Sure."

"Good."

They stared at each other for another moment before returning to their food.

Hermione could not concentrate for the rest of the meal, preoccupied with the thought of her impending conversation with Fred.

"'Mione!"

Hermione started and looked around for the source of the voice.

Ron was staring at her intently, exhasperation evident in his posture.

"Sorry… what was that?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right, I've only called your name six times. I asked you why you and my brother need to talk."

_Damn_. Hermione thought hard for a moment, grasping for any plausible excuse. 'I'm helping him with a new product for the shop. I need to tell him about the new research I've done, and I expect he has some new harebrained idea about things we should add to it."

"Just Fred?"

"George is busy with something else."

"I didn't know you were helping him now," Ron said, sounding impressed.

"We have a kind of… deal. I help him, and I get prank immunity."

"Damn… Wish I'd thought of that. What is it you're making?"

"Oh, it's… um… well…" Hermione wracked her brains for any type of inspiration, anything the twins might have mentioned working on, but came up blank. "It's supposed to be a surprise. You know, for the summer season coming up."

Ron nodded, though he looked slightly disappointed, and kept eating.

Hermione caught Fred's eye for the third time that day and he raised an eyebrow at her, smirking mischievously.

Hermione shrugged, as if to say "What else was I supposed to do?" and resumed picking at her eggs.

After Mrs. Weasley and Audrey had cleared the table – Mrs. Weasley had shot down all other offers of help in favor of getting to know her future daughter-in-law better – Bill stood up, and the room went quiet.

"Fleur and I have some news for you all," he said.

"We are going to 'ave a baby!" Fleur blurted out, smiling widely.

Shouts of joy, shock, and congratulations followed. Hermione smiled, congratulated the soon-to-be parents, and stepped back, out of the commotion.

"Hey," said a voice in her ear.

She jumped slightly and turned to see the tall form of Fred Weasley smiling down at her.

"Wanna take a walk?"

Hermoine nodded, and they were almost out the door when Ron called, "Oi! Where are you two going?"

"For a walk," said Hermione.

"What? Why can't you just talk in here?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Ronnikins, it's a tad bit deafening in here, and I don't fancy shouting about our newest invention. Secret, remember? Now be a good little chap and run along."

Ron glared at his older brother, but did not retort. He cast one sad, longing look at Hermione and slunk away, back to the family.

"You'd think we just denied him a trip to the fair, what with the way he's pouting," Hermione grumbled bitterly.

"Shall we?" Fred asked with a laugh, holding out his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. Hermione nodded, ignoring the dark looks Ron was sending their way, and let Fred lead her out into the garden.

"Big news, eh?" Fred said conversationally.

"Oh, yes, it's wonderful. Congratulations, Uncle Freddie."

He grinned. "I like that… So… Last week, Charlie brings home a boyfriend. This week, Fleur's pregnant. What do you recon's next? Dad's decided to participate in some wizard-muggle exchange program?"

Hermione laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised. Too bad those don't exist."

Fred chuckled in agreement, and silence fell.

"Soo.." Fred started after a few moments of quiet walking.

"Look, about last night-"

They smiled nervously at each other, having spoken in unison again.

"You go first," Hermione said.

Fred nodded, bringing them to a stop next to the weeping willow tree with a look of determination.

Hermione looked up at him in curiosity. His serious gaze did nothing to ease her sudden nerves.

"Look, I'm really sorry about last night – please let me finish," he said, seeing her about to speak. "I was seriously out of line. I shouldn't have read your book, and I shouldn't have laughed at you, and I shouldn't have insulted you, and – None of it was my business, and I'm really sorry." He looked apprehensively down at her, ruffling his hair uncomfortably.

"So does this mean you take back your offer?"

Fred blinked in surprise. Of all the responses he hand been anticipating, this was obviously not one of them. "W-What?"

"Your offer," she repeated through clenched teeth, feeling the humiliation and betrayal begin to course through her. "Is this your way of saying "Oh, just kidding as always, Hermione. I don't know _what_ I was thinking last night, but there's no way in Merlin's name that I will sit and listen to your problems'?"

"What? No! Hermione, of course not! And I do not sound like that!"

"And here I was, ready to spill my heart out to you like – like a schoolgirl writing in her diary! I should have known better than to trust a Weasley twin to take anything seriously, shouldn't I?"

"Hermione, I swear – Listen to me!" He grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her beneath the cover of the tree's boughs. "I wasn't leading you on, there was no joke, and there still isn't. I realized this morning how much of an arse I was last night, and wanted to apologize for being so out of line. I really am sorry… But if you want to talk, I'll listen. Hell, I'll sit under this tree with you until this time tomorrow if you want me to… Only, I'll need some warmer clothes; I'll freeze my bullocks off sitting out here all night."

Hermione took a deep breath, analyzing his sincere expression. "No prank?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, already feeling stupid for overreacting so badly.

"No prank." He raised his right hand, three fingers spread in the shape of a "W". "Weasley's honor," he said with a wink.

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Clever."

"Just one of my many favorable qualities." He smiled winningly and plopped himself down on the grass, leaning up against the tree trunk. "Now come pull up a bit of grass and talk."

Hermione sat and took a deep breath. "Where do I start?"

"The very middle, of course. The beginning takes too long and the end makes everything seem unimportant. Start at the middle."

Hermione cocked her head, taking in this new viewpoint. "Very well then."

She proceeded to tell him everything – literally everything. The nerves, the fear, the anxiety, the annoyance, the frustration, all of it. And, as promised he did not speak once. When she began to cry, telling him about how frightened and trapped she felt when Ron held her tight, he said nothing, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders and let her tears soak his shirt. When she got to the more awkward bits – the tentative forays, the secret rendezvous, he neither shuddered nor snickered. He sat, listened, and occasionally gave her a small squeeze. And for all of this, Hermione was grateful.

"And… yeah," she finished lamely, a long while later.

Fred nonverbally transfigured a rock into a small cup and filled it with water. He passed it to her and waited for her to finish drinking before he spoke. "So. What do we do now?"

"W-We?"

"You just told me all this, didn't you? I'm not going to just say 'Tough luck' and walk away. I'm here for you if you need help – and it seems to me like you do. So we're partners in crime now, like it or not, until you get sick of me and tell me to piss off. Don't worry, George tells me it's not too horrible a job."

Hermione scoffed and moved so her head was more comfortably on Fred's shoulder. "Wonderful. I've made an alliance with Fred Weasley."

"Somewhere, one-hundred of our former classmates are falling out of their seats in shock."

She breathed a laugh and closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of the breeze rustling the willow's boughs all around them. _This is nice,_ she thought. _The sun, the grass, the breeze. _Fred did not rush her to talk or move or do anything really. It was nice. It was comfortable.

"Do you love him?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open. _What kind of a question…_ "Well, yes. I've known him for years, we fought together, we survived together, we've been together for over two years as a couple, we-"

"Yes, but do you _love_ _him_?"

"Of course. I would die for him."

She could practically hear his raised eyebrow in his voice. "You nearly died for all of wizard kind. Your argument is invalid."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know… Do I really know what love is? Romantic love?"

Fred was silent for a long moment. "It's been my experience," he said slowly, as if weighing every word, "that if you have to ask yourself that question… you don't love him."

Hermione shook her head violently. No. She loved Ron. She did. She had to. Fred was wrong. "I love him. I do."

She felt Fred shrug. "Then you know what you have to do."

"What happened to 'we'?" she asked, poking him in the stomach.

"It was implied," he replied, squeezing her shoulder. "Are we done with this topic? Can I tell that joke about the cucumbers and the garden gnome? Too much crying, not enough laughing." His voice became gravely serious. "This is not the Weasley way."

Hermione laughed and closed her eyes again. "Be my guest."

"Brilliant. So there's this garden gnome, right? One of the muggle kinds, with the beard and wonky hat. Let's call him….. Brunhilda…"

**There you have it, Chapter Four. Sorry about the long wait between updates, the end of the school year got more than a little crazy what with AP exams and finals. So here's an extralong chapter to make up for it :-) **

**Review? Anyone? Por favor? I love to hear what you think, and I LOVE any and all constructive criticism you can give me. Bring it on :-)**

**Oh, yes! For anyone interested in seeing a bit of Fred's side of the story, check out the companion piece to this story, "The Prankster's Pupil". They're just little scenes from Fred's life (ie: In the shop) that correspond with the timeline of this story. You do not have to read it in order to understand this story, it's just there because some people were interested in seeing a bit of Fred's side of the story. For others, continue enjoying Fred's air of mystery :-P**

**PS: Thirteen pages! Whooo! I need to stop on this record breaking kick or I'll probably be up to fourty by the time the story is over...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites, and alerts! They mean SO much to me.**

**This is a (very) short, bit of a filler chapter... It was going to be much longer, but I wasn't a fan of this part, and wanted a clean break from it before moving on...**

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling.**

Chapter 5

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"

Hermione woke with a shriek and promptly fell out of bed.

Flat on her stomach, she glared up at her want sitting on the nightstand, crowing like a rooster every thirty seconds.

She huffed in exasperation and tried to stand, just to fall back down, tangled hopelessly in her pile of blankets. She let out a small scream of frustration that coincided exactly with the next rooster crow. Swearing under her breath about "tweedle-dee and tweedle-bloody-dum," she disentangled herself from the sheets and snatched up her wand, disabling the alarm.

_What a wonderful way to start a Tuesday_, she thought darkly as she staggered groggily to the bathroom.

It had been two weeks since her talk with Fred, and she and the twins had met up a few times for coffee in between. Fred really was a great friend. He had made good on every promise he had made to her in the beginning, and ever since.

She smiled to herself, looking forward to her lunch date with the twins at one. And her coffee. She was definitely looking forward to her coffee.

She got dressed in her work clothes, threw her hair up in a bun, and made her way to the kitchen. Hermione was not exactly a morning person, and could not fully function before her morning coffee. She poured herself a mug and popped some bread into the toaster. She sipped her coffee and read the Daily Prophet that the large tawny owl had delivered earlier.

The paper had become much more credible after the war. She suspected that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, had had something to do with it. Of course, it probably didn't hurt that Luna Lovegood had become a regular correspondent. She had always placed a large emphasis on sharing information with honesty and fairness… if in a rather unorthodox way.

She grabbed the toast as it popped out of the toaster, grabbed her bag folded her newspaper under her arm – she would read it during her morning break – and walked out into the hall, locking the door behind her.

She pictured the storefront of Flourish and Blotts, the many stacks of books, the faded wooden sign, the peeling paint, turned on her heel, and was sucked into the vacuum of apparition.

* * *

><p>The day had passed by, so far uneventfully. Hermione shelved the new shipment of <em>Quidditch Through the Ages <em>and did a bit of inventory in the back room. She argued with Paul, one of her coworkers about whether or not the Lockheart books should still be sold, and helped an old woman decide on the best book to buy in order to brew love potions. All in all, not the most extraordinary of days. Hermione didn't mind, however; she'd had more than her share of extraordinary days during her Hogwarts years.

"Oi, Hermione," Paul called around noon from his place restocking the front window display. "Isn't that your boyfriend?"

Hermione frowned slightly and went to join him by the window. Ron didn't normally come to Diagon Alley during the work day, and when he did, it was only for lunch with her. But, sure enough, there was the distinctive bright red hair coming down the street. "Yes, that's him. I wonder what he's doing here."

"He's been coming down a lot lately around lunch," Simone said absently as she dusted down a nearby bookshelf.

"He has?" Hermione asked, turning to stare at Simone.

"Didn't you know? He's usually with-"

"Is that the Lovegood girl?"

Hermione blinked in surprise and whirled around to look back out the window. There was no mistaking the thin frame, the long tangle of white blonde hair of Luna Lovegood.

"Yeah," Simone answered. "They come down together for lunch at the Leaky a few times a week. Have for a few weeks now."

Hermione watched as they continued down the street and around the corner, talking animatedly.

"You seem surprised."

"Didn't you know they'd been meeting?"

Hermione shook her head slightly. "No…" She turned from the window and cleared her throat. "No, I didn't."

She caught the look that passed between her friends.

"It's no big deal," she told them. "They're probably doing something for work; maybe Ron's helping her with an article or something. We haven't had much time together the past few weeks; he probably hasn't had a chance to tell me yet, that's all."

They raised their eyebrows skeptically at her.

"Who are you convincing? Us or yourself?"

"No, listen. I'm sure it's not anything like that. Ron wouldn't do something like that… _Luna_ wouldn't do something like that…"

Paul shrugged. "If you say so. I'm just saying that if I hadn't seen my girl much lately and I had some free time, I'd be spending it with her, not some other bird." He put the last book on top of the stack and made his way towards a lost-looking customer in the middle of the muggle fiction section.

Simone pursed her lips but stayed silent as she went back to dusting.

Hermione stood alone at the window, looking out at the grey April afternoon, thinking hard.

Ron couldn't be cheating… No. Ron had done some stupid things, acted insensitive and tactless, rash and sometimes even rude in the past, but if there was one thing Hermione knew after nearly a decade of friendship, it was that Ron was not a cheater. And Luna, strange and spacey though she was, didn't have one cruel or inconsiderate bone in her body .But then, what were they doing together? And why had Ron not mentioned it to her?

_Well,_ she argued with herself, _to be fair, it's not like I tell him every time I go out with Ginny or the twins… _But he knew that she _did_ spend time with them on occasion… _He's had weeks, according to them, and he hasn't even mentioned her name…_

Was Ron losing interest? Had he found someone new? _Someone that will-_ Hermione took a shaky breath. No. It wouldn't do any good to stand around and worry, like some pathetic doormat. She'd ask him later – no, she'd find out more first… She took a moment to gather herself – she seemed to be doing that a lot lately – and returned to work.

"Finally!" Paul said an hour later, turning the sign in the front window from "Open" to "Closed for Lunch". "I'm starving."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to grab her things from the back room, eager to meet the twins. She had a plan – a mad one. One that if you had told her about it back in her fifth year, she would have been shocked and hexed you six ways from Sunday. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And Hermione was desperate.

**Eep! Don't kill me! More is coming soon! I promise!**

**Like I said... Not a big fan of this chapter... no humor and lots of depressed musings... but it had to be done for the rest of the story to pan out, and I promise it'll lighten up very soon!... **

**But let me know what you think :-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Have I mentioned how much I love you guys? Everytime I get a review I feel so giddy for the next seven hours, people start to wonder what's wrong with me. I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying this and sticking with me throughout all my inconsistent updates (Eep! Sorry! Life - and writers block - happens.) And the response to last chapter blew me away! I didn't know you all felt so strongly about Ron! Haha :-P You guys rock!**

**Disclaimer: Okay, okay. I don't own Harry Potter. But oh, how I wish I did...**

Chapter Six

Hermione pushed open the restaurant door and inhaled the familiar scent of cooking meat. She scanned the restaurant quickly, and, catching sight of two heads of bright red hair, made a beeline to the back of the room, not in the mood to exchange pleasantries with the hostess.

She slid into the booth across from the twins and threw her head down on the table with an overdramatic sigh.

The twins broke off their conversation, noting the new arrival.

"That good, eh?" George asked.

"Terrible."

"Ugh, please Hermione, don't sound so enthusiastic," said Fred's voice. "Your perkiness is unbearable."

"Shut it."

"Ooh, not very nice. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Not. In. The mood."

Hermione heard a small scuffle across the table, but did not bother to look up.

"Ignore the idiot twin, Hermione. He's just cranky because Angie's gone for another two weeks."

Hermione looked up, venomous glare in place. The scowl quickly fell away however, when she caught sight of what the twins were wearing. It was as if they had gone digging through Mrs. Weasley's rag bag of discarded fabric and chosen the most hideously colored and patterned cloth. Their outfits did not match in the least and clashed horribly with their bright red hair, a horrendous mix of plaid, pinstripes, brocade, tweed, and polka dots.

She raised an eyebrow. "Nice outfits."

They immediately took on the persona of a pair of peacocks, puffing out their chests and adopting pompous expressions.

"Why thank you, kind lady," Fred said, smoothing down his bright magenta tweed waistcoat and straightening his plaid orange tie.

"You should see the pants," George stage whispered, putting his foot up on his chair and gesturing grandly towards his neon green pinstriped leg like a magician's assistant.

"Mine are blue," Fred offered with a winning smile.

"And…why?"

Fred leaned in, a small smirk playing across his face. "Why not?"

"Why are you wearing that?" she asked more urgently, glancing around nervously at the other patrons. Normally, Fred and George had no problem dressing "muggle" when they went into London with Hermione. _So what in Merlin's name are they doing dressed like that?_

"We couldn't very well walk in here in our work robes," George whispered.

"And it's Anahita's first day on the job," Fred finished for him, "so we're kind of on call at the moment, so to speak. Have to be ready to go any second."

"Surely you've seen our work clothes before?" George asked, a hint of a laugh evident in his voice.

"They were never this… eccentric…" she answered, eyeing his blue brocade vest, purple polka-dotted dress shirt, and lilac tie.

"Ah, yes," George said, smiling fondly. "But this is a special occasion, see. We're promoting our new Mix-Up Mints."

"Mix-Up Mints?"

"Make your brain go muddly and everything gets mixed up," Fred explained. "Bit of a vague product, really… You never know exactly how a person will react to it. Some just end up with strange clothing choices - " he gestured to himself and George, "and some end up speaking with all of their words out of order."

"The unpredictability was actually a bit of a mistake -"

"But it's actually what makes the mint so appealing. Besides, Granger," Fred said with a wink, "I don't see anyone else complaining about our wardrobe." He quirked an eyebrow and grinned, nodding imperceptibly in the direction of a nearby table.

Sure enough, a group of university girls sat together, chatting and sending the occasional not-so-furtive glance over at the twins. Apparently, they had no problem with neon pants or magenta tweed.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Have you two ordered yet?"

"No, we were waiting for you."

At that moment – as if she had been waiting, listening to their conversation – a young waitress popped up next to their table, smiling brightly, ponytail swinging. "Hello!" she said. "My name is Monica and I will be your server today. Can I get you anything?"

Hermione scowled, bad mood returned full force at the waitress' overly bubbly tone. "Two lemonades and a barley water. And I'll have the fish and chips."

The girl raised her eyebrows, a look of cool surprise written on her face. "Of course." She turned her back sharply on Hermione and flashed a bright smile at the twins. "And what can I get for you, gentlemen?"

"I'll have the shepherd's pie," offered George, smiling politely up at her in typical charming Weasley fashion.

Monica flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and smiled flirtatiously. "Coming right up. And for you, handsome?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling slightly nauseous.

"Oh, stop it," Fred said, giving her a would-be-bashful look. "You really think I'm handsome?"

It took all of Hermione's might to not let her jaw drop. _What…?_

"Oh, definitely!" the waitress gushed. "That jacket _really_ makes your eyes pop."

"Aw, thanks, doll! I told my boyfriend magenta was my color, didn't I, baby?" he asked, turning to George.

Hermione faked a cough, attempting to disguise her loud, strangled cry of shock.

George slung an arm around his twin's shoulder and leaned in, nuzzling into Fred's shoulder. "Mm, you sure did, babe."

Hermione tried very hard to look unfazed.

The waitress opened and shut her mouth in absolute shock.

"Now, darling," Fred drawled, "I'll have the cottage pie. And, honey," he added, dropping his voice and leaning in to her, "I would really appreciate it if you would be a bit nicer to the mother of our future child. She's pregnant, see? Hormones, you know." He shrugged and smiled in a 'What-can-you-do' type of way.

Monica stared down at him, looking as if she had been frozen in place. She turned slowly towards Hermione, who quickly moved a hand to her belly and smiled over at the twins.

"Monica, dear," George called, breaking her out of her stunned trance. "Our order, please?"

The waitress nodded slowly. "O-of course… Right away."

She hurried away as if being chased by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs.

The twins began to laugh uproariously the second she was out of sight. Hermione stared at them for a moment before begrudgingly joining them. The boys high-fived and smiled over at Hermione.

"And that's how you get rid of a crazy bird," George started.

"Gred and Forge style!" Fred finished.

"Nice touch on the pregnancy thing," George commented appreciatively.

"Ten points to Hermione for playing along," Fred said with a smile. "I'd toast you, but I don't think our dear Monica will come back with our drinks for quite some time."

George nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "Well done, little bro…Well done."

"So," Fred said, suddenly serious. "What is it that has you so upset?"

Hermione sighed. "It's… It's Ron."

"Oh no…" George groaned. Fred shot him a glare before turning his attention back to Hermione.

"What happened?" he asked. "Another…"

"No," Hermione said morosely, tracing the wood grain of the table with her finger. "Quite the opposite, in fact…"

"The opposite?" George asked. "What d'you-"

Hermione let her head fall to the table with a loud THUNK.

"OI!"

Hermione grumbled into table.

"Eh?"

She turned her head slightly, just enough for the twins to hear her. "He's been having secret lunches with Luna Lovegood."

"What?" they cried in unison.

Hermione took a deep breath, propping her head up on her elbows, and launched into the story.

"That wanker…" Fred muttered when she had finished.

"So… Do you think…?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno…"

They turned to George, who had remained silent the whole time.

"I don't think so. Ron… He's an idiot… But he wouldn't… At least, I hope he wouldn't…"

"We'll beat him if he is."

"Luna wouldn't do something like that…"

"That's what I thought," Hermione said. "I just… Why would he be meeting her without telling me at all? He's never even mentioned being in contact with her, let alone meeting up every other day for weeks!" She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and groaned loudly.

"Um… I have… uh… I have your food…" said a timid voice. Hermione peeked out from underneath her fingers to see Monica, the waitress, standing awkwardly beside the table with a tray full of their food and drinks.

"Oh, thank you doll," Fred said, immediately turning on his charm. "I'm just parched!"

Monica stared at them all in silence, still looking horrified, as if they had all turned purple and grown two more heads.

George leaned in towards Fred and whispered suggestively, just loud enough for the waitress to hear, "Aw, I could have helped you with that, sugar."

Hermione choked back a laugh at the young girl's face. Fred and George always had a way of making her laugh, intentional or not, even when she was in the worst of moods. She cleared her throat, attempting to look serious again. "Monica, if you could give us our order, please? I'm just starved… Eating for two you know."

The waitress looked at her as if she was crazy and placed the drinks and plates in front of them.

"Thanks, cupcake," Fred said with a wink.

Monica stared at them for a moment longer before running off again to the back room.

"Once again, how to get rid of a crazy bird, Gred and Forge style," George said with a mock bow.

"Acting like incestual homosexuals?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Obviously."

"So," George said through a mouthful of shepherd's pie. "Back on topic. You actually think Ron's cheating on you?"

Hermione sighed, staring contemplatively at a chip she was holding in midair. "I don't know… I don't think he is… but… I think he might be going to…"

"You've got to be joking!" Fred snorted. A bit of mashed potato went flying out of his mouth, landing on the table, perilously near to Hermione's hand. She grimaced disgustedly and moved her hand gingerly out of the way. "Ickle Ronnikins? Cheat on you?"

"Not possible," George said. "He was damn lucky to get you. He'd be a right idiot to go giving that up."

"Even Ron's not that dense."

"Well… Maybe…"

"Okay, so no guarantees."

"Thanks, boys," Hermione grumbled sarcastically, munching glumly on a bit of fried fish. "What do I do?" she groaned, flopping her head to the side in a melodramatic show of defeat.

"What?" George asked. "To keep his attention on you?"

"Not bloody difficult," Fred scoffed. "Now, if you were Moaning Myrtle, that'd be hard."

"But you're not Moaning Myrtle. You're Hermione Granger."

"And I don't think that you would have a problem keeping any man interested," Fred finished, looking her up and down.

"That's it, though, precisely," she said, ignoring Fred. She lowered her voice. "What if he's… losing interest… because I won't… you know… What if he's gotten frustrated and he's tired of it and he's decided to look somewhere else? What if he wants to be with Luna because he thinks she will-"

"Calm down," George said, as Hermione's speech had only become faster and shriller the longer she spoke. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"Yeah, all that excitement isn't good for the baby," Fred joked. Hermione was not amused.

"I'm serious! What if… What if that's what he's thinking? What he's planning to do?"

"Once again: Calm down. Knickers: Untwist. Ron wouldn't be _that_-"

"I'll kill him for you, for one."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No fratricide."

"All's fair in love and war, my dear," Fred said, raising his cup in her direction. "And if he's really such a bastard as to consider leaving you because you won't shag him, it'll be a bit of both."

"Thanks, Fred," she said tonelessly. She began thinking hard. She had been prepared to forgo her reckless plan in favor of whatever advice the twins had to offer; however, they didn't seem to be very forthcoming. _Should I… If I do… If I ask… It'll change everything… Won't it…?_ She stared pensively into her glass of fizzing barley water, as if hoping for it to somehow give her an answer.

"I know this is a bit strange, coming from me…" George started. "Seeing as I'm usually a fan of tricks and tactics and whatnot… But why don't you try talking to him? Just ask him."

"Don't sound like you're upset though, no matter what you do."

"Act casual. Say you saw them today, and ask how the lunch was."

"Don't sound suspicious."

"Unless he gives you reason to."

"In which case, yell at him for twenty minutes, jinx him until he grows feelers, tell him from me he's a right arse, and come to our place. We'll bake you biscuits or something."

Hermione sniffed lightly. "Can they be snickerdoodles?"

"What else would they be?" George smiled kindly at her.

Hermione smiled gratefully at the redhead who had, over the last few months, become one of her best friends and surrogate older brother.

"Well," Fred said, moving his hands up and down as if weighing the air, "there's… chocolate chip… Chocolate macadamia… Gingersnaps… Sugar… Peanut butter… Raisin…"

"Thank you, Cookie Monster," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Who?" the twins asked in unison.

She sighed. "It's from a muggle children's show. A blue fuzzy thing that eats biscuits. Honestly… I seriously need to muggle-fy you two more."

"Strange concepts, these muggles…" George mused.

"Anyways," Fred said, dragging the word out, "back to your question, Hermione. The way I see it, you've got three options. One: As my tragically ugly twin-"

"Oi!"

"- already stated, you could just talk to him. But really, how boring can you get?"

"Well, if you were a _mature-_"

"Shut it. Beauty before age. And I've got both to lord over you. So naff off. This is _my_ Ask Elspeth time," he said smugly, referencing the advice column of Witch Weekly that Mrs. Weasley was so fond of. "Now, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…" He shot a glare at his twin. "Option two: Come to your senses and just leave him-"

"Because _why are you with him_?"

"Because you are obviously far too good for him, he's a humongous prat, and it is about time."

"I suggest option two, regardless."

"And, my personal favorite, option three. Show him what he'd be missing."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Show him what you can offer that Looney can't," George clarified.

"Oh, yes," she snorted. "Because the list is so long."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," George said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're brilliant."

"Witty."

"Kind."

"Quite fit."

"Fred!" Hermione gasped, blushing slightly.

The twins ignored her.

"Loyal."

"I hear you've got a mean right hook."

"You make good tea."

"You let us watch your telly."

"You don't believe in things that 'float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy.'"

"And I bet you'd be great in bed."

"FRED!"

He winked at her unapologetically. "Just got to get you trained up a bit."

Hermione blushed darkly and pursed her lips, thoughts racing. _Maybe I really should go through with the plan… _"Anyone can make tea. And Luna has all of those things too…"

The twins sighed in unison.

"Fine then," Fred said airily.

"If you want to just sit and mope about like Myrtle-"

"Be our guest."

Hermione glared at them, ready to retort, but at that moment, George let out a small yelp, effectively cutting off anything she had been about to say.

"That'll be Verity…" he said, pulling out a small, glowing mirror. "I'll be back."

Hermione watched him go in confusion.

"It's a Gabbing Glass," Fred explained, lowering his voice so the nearby muggles wouldn't hear. "We started developing them after Harry told us about the two-way mirror Sirius gave him. Apparently they're really rare, so we've been working on a way to make them more accessible to the public. They go on the market in June. Dead useful for work."

"I see…" If she was going to go through with her plan, it was now or never.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, fantastic for work, I imagine," she said distractedly.

"Hermione?" he said a bit more forcefully.

"Huh?" She started a bit, coming back fully to reality.

"What's up?"

"W-What do you mean?"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You just got very strange." He drew the words out slowly, staring at her critically.

"I – Erm…" Suddenly her throat seemed to get very dry. _Oh, Merlin… I'm mad… I've gone insane… There's no way I can – _

"What's the matter?"

"I – Oh, Merlin, you're going to think I'm insane. You're going to think I'm absolutely-"

"Hermione, with all due respect, get on with it." He smiled kindly, letting her know he wasn't annoyed.

"I -" She sighed. "You said if I needed anything, I could come to you, right? If I ever needed to talk to anyone, you'd be there, right?"

"Um, yes…?"

Hermione was too busy fighting her way past a mental breakdown to pay any attention to Fred's confusion. "Um… Oh, Merlin, please don't judge me too harshly or… Or anything… But…"

She took a sharp intake of breath as Fred unexpectedly reached across the table and grasped her hand.

"Hermione?"

"Can you… will you…?"

Fred said nothing, but squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"?"

"Um… what?" he asked, sounding apologetic.

"Do you…" She gulped, staring intently down at the table. "Do you think you could maybe teach me about it all?"

"Teach you about what?" he asked, sounding amused. "What on this planet does Hermione need someone else to teach her about?"

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath and lifted her head hesitantly, forcing herself to look Fred in the eye.

"I..." Fred studied her face intently, understanding suddenly seeming to dawn on him. "I… Hermione?"

She pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. _Oh no, oh no, oh no… I've just ruined everything and-_

"Hermione?" he asked cautiously. "Are you asking me… what I think you're asking me?"

She gulped and nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact.

He opened and closed his mouth in shock. His grip on her hand slackened and he stared at her, stunned.

She stared back, too afraid to speak.

He withdrew his hand and leaned back in his seat, away from her, still speechless.

"Fred?" she asked finally. "Please say something. Anything."

"Hermione…" He groaned and dragged his hand across his face.

"You don't have to say anything now," she said in a rush. "It's just… You said it yourself. All's fair in love and war, and I need to learn somehow. More so now than ever before. I know your reputation. I know you're… well, qualified… You've become one of my best friends. I don't really have anyone else to go to and I just… I wouldn't be asking you, Fred, but I just don't know what to- … What with Ron and Luna…" She mentally cursed herself as she felt a tear slip out of the corner of her eye.

He groaned quietly, raking his fingers through his fiery hair. "Hermione…" he repeated weakly, apparently incapable of saying anything else.

"I – I'm sorry," she whispered. "Forget I asked. Forget I said anything at all. Please. I-"

"Hermione, I-"

"Fred!" George came barreling around the corner, panting slightly. "It's absolute mayhem back at the shop," he announced quietly, pulling on his bright magenta coat. "A kid knocked down a display of Decoy Detonators, which knocked over the Instant Darkness Powder, the customers went berserk, some pygmy puffs got loose, potions broke and spilled, displays got knocked over, Anahita's having a mental breakdown…" He took a deep, much needed breath. "It's terrible. We need to be there _now_! Why in the hell are you not moving? GET UP!" He yanked Fred to his feet and tossed him his coat. "You can put that on as we walk. Sorry we have to leave like this, Hermione, but they really need us back at the shop. We'll pay you back later, wizard's honor."

"Hermione," Fred started, still looking dazed. "I-"

"Come on!" George hissed, pulling on his twin's arm.

"Forget it, Fred," Hermione said softly, face burrowed in her hands. "Forget I said anything."

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but George was forcefully pulling him towards the door.

Hermione watched them go through the gaps between her fingers.

_What did I just do?_

She stayed like that for a few minutes until a quiet "Um… Excuse me?" broke her self-loathing monologue.

She looked up and immediately wished she hadn't. Monica stood before her, looking unabashedly curious. "What?" she asked flatly.

"Would you like any take-away boxes?" the girl asked, smacking her gum.

"Three, please," she said with a sigh, realizing she would not be finishing her meal any time soon.

"Mmkay." Monica turned and left again, much to Hermione's relief.

All too soon, she was back. Hermione stopped picking at her meal and scooped the leftovers into the take-away boxes, trying to ignore the waitress who had not moved.

"Is everything okay?" the girl asked after a moment.

Hermione nodded unconvincingly. "Fine."

"You sure? Because it looked like-"

Hermione had had enough. "The twins want to know who the biological father is, but I have no idea because I've been with both of them and they're identical," she said in a monotone.

The waitress's eyes widened in surprise, thoroughly convinced by Hermione's improvised story. 'I – I'm so… Wow… I'm sorry. But-"

"Can I just have the bill please?"

"O-Of course." Monica left and returned once again. Hermione paid quickly and left.

_I am an idiot,_ she thought, and, with a crack, she disappeared.

**I love your feedback, lovely reviewers! What you loved, what you hated, ideas of what you'd like to see in the future, strange behavioral quirks you have, the color of your socks, I don't care haha! :-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**SO SORRY abotut the wait!**

**I didn't write Harry Potter (shocker)**

Chapter 7

"Hermione?"

Hermione froze in place in the middle of stirring a pot of spaghetti. _Pull it together, Hermione_, she told herself. She took a deep, calming breath, cleared her throat, and returned to her cooking.

"In the kitchen," she called back.

She heard the heavy fall of footsteps as her guest made his way out of the fireplace and towards the kitchen.

"Smells great," Ron said, collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs and shrugging his coat off.

Hermione gulped, noting with a sinking feeling the lack of so much as a hello hug. Now that she thought about it, their physical relationship had been becoming more and more… _platonic_ throughout the past few weeks… She tried to think of the last time they had kissed properly… _Nearly two weeks ago… _

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she asked, "How was work today?"

"Busy." She heard the clunk of his boots hitting the floor as he kicked them off. "Another raid, two cases of muggle baiting, a new lead on Rookwood, and the Johansson case is still cold…"

"Sounds like you won't be bored for a while," she said, tasting a noodle. "And… How has the rest of your week been? Anything new or exciting happen?"

"Yeah…" She could almost hear the apologetic grin in his voice. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to come by more often. I've just been so swamped at work, I've had to work through my lunch hours a lot lately and when I come home, I'm completely knackered. Harry broke his wrist in a raid last Monday, but Williams got it fixed in no time. We arrested Aminis Brattle for leading an attempted attack on some local muggles. Ginny charmed all of Harry's underpants bright pink in revenge for something or other. Other than that… Not much new."

"Oh," Hermione choked out, draining the spaghetti. She was greatful for the cloud of steam that rose from the boiling water, as it hid her watering eyes. _Not one mention of Luna… _

"How about you?"

"Oh, you know," she said, attempting to swallow the lump rising in her throat. "The same as usual. We got some new shipments, had another argument with Paul today about Bathilda Bagshot… Yesterday it was Lockheart… I had lunch yesterday with the twins at a muggle restaurant…"

"That's good," he said.

Hermione repressed a sigh as she ladled some spaghetti and sauce onto two plates. He wasn't about to bring Luna up himself.

"I saw you today, actually," she said, trying to keep her tone light and conversational, as she placed the plates on the table.

She saw Ron freeze for a moment out of the corner of her eye. "You did? Where? I didn't see you. I would have stopped by to say hello."

Anger began to bubble up inside of her. _Like hell you would, _she thought. "In Diagon Alley. I saw you walk past as I was dusting one of the window displays at work."

"Oh. I'm sorry I didn't drop by," he said. "I was in a hurry to get back to work."

"No," she said, looking him straight in the eye for the first time since he'd arrived. "I saw you coming, not leaving. Towards the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh. Yes, I had a lunch meeting with a coworker for the department."

"Oh, I see," she forced herself to smile slightly as she took a bite of spaghetti. "I didn't know Luna was working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now… I thought she was still working for the Prophet."

Ron choked slightly on his water. "Oh, er, yes. She still does."

"I thought you met with a coworker. I saw you yesterday too, so there's no use going the route of denial."

"Erm…" He sighed, and put down his fork. Were she not feeling murderously angry and betrayed, she would have marked this as a momentous occasion. "Okay… Look, Hermione."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I've been meeting up with Luna every few days at lunch lately. I bumped into her a few weeks back and we went to lunch to catch up, and she helped me a bit with some of my cases. She's bloody brilliant, really, once you get past the loony factor. She helped me make a huge breakthrough in one of my cases, and we've been meeting up occasionally since to go over a few cases. That's all."

What Hermione desperately wanted to do was begin yelling about the way that he never asked _her_ for help with a case, that he never dropped by her work to say hello all those times he was in the area. She wanted to demand to know if he was cheating on her, why she wasn't good enough, if he was really that much of a slimeball. But she didn't. "Why did you lie to me?" she asked, somehow managing to keep her voice level and quiet.

"Er… Merlin, this is going to sound so bloody stupid… I didn't want you to fly off the handle, thinking I was seeing her behind your back."

"I would have thought correctly then, wouldn't I?"

"Well… Bloody hell," he groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. "Yes, I've been seeing her without telling you. But I haven't been _seeing her_; I haven't been dating her. We haven't been involved in any way, Hermione, I promise. Just two friends catching lunch together every so often."

She stared at him for a long moment, weighing his words. "I still can't believe you wouldn't tell me. If that's the case, if you were just meeting her for lunch as friends, why would you purposefully keep that a secret? Why would you lie to me?"

"Hermione, I- I made a big mistake. I didn't want you to-"

"To think you were cheating on me? Well done, Ronald, because that's exactly what I think now."

"Hermione," he said, in a tone of forced calm. He took a deep breath. "I am not cheating on you. Not with Luna. Not with anybody. I couldn't do that to you. We just meet up, talk, eat… What you do with Fred and George."

Hermione swallowed thickly at the mention of Fred's name. _It's not cheating. We won't be cheating. We won't. It's not._

"Hermione?" he prompted, taking her silence as remaining anger. "I promise."

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

He wasn't cheating. And now she had gone and gotten into this… _lessons_ mess with Fred.

She cleared her throat. "I believe you."

He smiled gratefully and returned to his spaghetti.

She didn't feel very hungry.

* * *

><p>Hermione pressed her head against the cool of the refrigerator.<p>

"Stupid," she groaned. She turned, leaning back on fridge, and let her head fall against it with a thunk. "What was I thinking?" she moaned to the empty apartment.

Ron had left thirty minutes ago with a loose hug and halfhearted kiss, claiming a need to go help Harry with something at their flat.

She sunk to the ground, sitting crouched in a small ball of self-loathing.

_Clear head,_ she thought. _That's all I need._

Summoning a piece of parchment and a quill, she set about making a list.

Pros:

I can learn from Fred

Fred is a good friend

Fred has experience

Fred won't judge

Fred is understanding and won't ask questions

It's not cheating as long as we don't do anything physical…right?

I need to learn somehow

I want to learn for myself. Knowledge = self-confidence

Cons:

Ron isn't cheating... Am I?

I am an idiot and made a complete fool of myself

Fred probably thinks I'm barmy

I am a horrid girlfriend

And an even worse person

The pros outweighed the cons. However, the cons dealt with much larger issues…

Hermione crumpled the list into a ball and threw it across the kitchen with a screech of frustration.

_Breathe._ In. Out. In. Out

In. _It's too late to take back what I asked him._

Out. _Am I a bad person?_

In. _He can always say no._

Out. _Is it wrong to want this?_

In. _I don't care._

She let out her breath in a loud whoosh.

"It's decided. I am a disgusting human being…" A flutter of movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention to the window. "Bert?"

She stood stiffly and crossed to let the small bird in. He landed on the sill and stuck a leg out happily, looking up at her curiously.

She reached out to untie the small scroll from the owl's leg, hands shaking so much she nearly knocked the poor creature over. In. Out. In. Out.

Bert peered up at her in what could only be described as a sympathetic way and nuzzled gently into her hand, as if sensing her distress. He nipped her finger affectionately and flew back out the window.

She stared after him for a moment, smiling faintly, before remembering the scroll she held in her hand.

She inhaled a rattling breath, looking down at the parchment as if it were about to bite her.

_What's the worst it can say? That I'm a horrible person? That I disgust him? How dare I suggest this? _

"Well, I've been telling myself the same things for hours."

Realizing she had spoken aloud, she looked around the flat embarrassedly, as if checking to make sure that the furniture hadn't heard her talking to herself.

In. Out.

She unrolled the scroll, took a deep breath, and looked down at the message.

There were only three words, written in a familiar hand:

_ I'll do it._

**Again, I'm SO sorry for the horrendous wait! Life happened, and this chapter's been giving me absolute hell... The hardest one I've had to write... Not sure if I'm completely happy with it yet buuut... Let me know what you think! :-)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know, it's been forever! I am so sorry, but life got in the way. Thank you to everyone who's put this on Story Alert and stuck with this story! You rock!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8<span>

Averted eyes. Tense silence. Awkward sips of coffee.

Hermione set her cup down on the table with a bit more force than necessary and pressed both of her hands firmly against the glossy wood of the café table, looking Fred in the eye for the first time since he sat down. "Right," she said, sounding far more confident than she felt. "Ground rules."

"Ground rules?"

"Ground rules. Good way to begin, I think."

"Right… Er… Like what?"

A tense silence filled the air. _Like what?_ She had been expecting him to have some sort of clue... "Well, first… We don't tell your family." There, that was a good starting point.

"I figured that was a given," he scoffed. "Except for George, right?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I figured that was a given."

"Touche…"

"Second. We… We don't tell anyone else either…"

"Really?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Because I had planned on telling the Prophet all about how I'm giving sex ed lessons to my baby brother's girlfriend."

"Point taken... Third, location… Erm…"

"Your place or mine?" he asked, sounding far too bitter for the innuendo he was attempting to accomplish.

"Exactly… Mine, I think. I wouldn't want to-… George-… You know? My flat has more privacy…"

"Deal. Your place." He took a sip from his coffee. "Fourth, I don't think we should meet regularly. Just any time it works out. Regularity makes it easier to detect."

"I'll take your word for it. Fifth, no physical contact… of _that_ sort. This is not a relationship; this is an educational situation." She took a long sip from her coffee, and looked out the window. "I am not a cheater..." she muttered.

He nodded vehemently, looking shamefacedly down at the grain of the table. "I could never do that to my brother…"

"Any more?" she asked after a long moment of tense silence.

"No… Not that I can think of right now."

Hermione nodded sharply and stuck her hand out. "Deal."

Fred grasped her hand and shook it. "Deal."

Hermione tried to ignore the slight tingle she felt as he released her hand. Silence fell again as they both fell back into their previous positions, avoiding each other's eyes.

"I… I should go," Hermione finally said, clearing her throat. "My break is almost over." She dug through her bag and placed a few knuts on the table.

"How does Friday sound?" he asked suddenly as she stood up.

She paused, fingers still pressed against the table. "Friday?" she squeaked. "Er, yes. Friday's fine."

"8 o'clock?" he called after her retreating back.

"8 o'clock," she confirmed, mentally questioning her sanity.

She took a deep breath and continued on her way to the door. Secrecy, established location, no regularity, no physical contact… Was that everything?

She hesitated in the door frame and turned back. "Fred?" she called.

He turned, looking at her expectantly.

She gave him one long level look. "Sixth: Don't fall in love with me."

And with that, she walked out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Very short, but I needed a way to get back into the swing of things and segway into the next bit of the story. I promise to do my best to update sooner!**


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